


An MIT tale

by jonesaubreypie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2020-11-26 09:23:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20927906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonesaubreypie/pseuds/jonesaubreypie
Summary: Tony's a bored MIT junior who's running from his problems, his father, and himself by throwing himself into building his most important creation, JARVIS. An intriguing, cute student named Bruce Banner catches his eye, and throws everything Tony knows into question. This is the story of two souls coming together and finding something they didn't even know they needed in each other.





	1. "All my friends have nicknames"

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a slow burn, but not really. 
> 
> Starts off semi-innocent, but will get graphic later on.

Tony took a long drag on the cigarette delicately balancing between his fingers, leaning against the trunk of his car as he surveyed the parking lot. Students were just beginning to arrive, bundling themselves up in large overcoats and puffy winter jackets. Late October in Boston managed to seep into people’s very bones, the air charged with the electricity of the season’s first early snowfall. A couple got out of their car, meeting each other half way around the vehicle, and linking their hands together as they walked to class, the woman’s head thrown back in laughter. On the other side of the parking lot, a couple of local neighborhood kids were practicing skatebaord tricks, cheering each other on whenever one of their friends landed an impressive maneuver, and teasing them whenever they fell. 

He exhaled, shifting a little, trying to find some warmth. It was an increasingly difficult task as the metal of his car rapidly cooled in the early morning air. Signing up for an eight am physics class had been Rhodey’s idea. Tony didn’t even need to take it. The lessons were redundant, even if they were coming from one of MIT’s most so-called brilliant minds. There was nothing he hated more than being bored. If having a degree from MIT wasn’t so important to his father, he wouldn’t be here. He’d move out to California, buy a decent-sized house with a garage big enough to operate as a lab, but nothing super lavish. He didn’t need to have the same luxuries his father and mother prioritized over their son. That’s why he chose to buy a simple Honda Acura when his father mailed an empty check to Boston with nothing but a signature at the bottom. Under reason, his father simply wrote, “Tony.” Not even a happy birthday. 

Tony shook his head, tilting it back to look up at the grey sky through his sunglasses, squinting even behind the shades. He got too drunk again last night while working on a prototype for a project, his most ambitious to date. A form of artificial intelligence that surpassed anything he had encountered. The design session he held in his room with Rhodey didn’t go very well, which he blamed on the copious amount of whiskey, beer, and pizza they inhaled. He did think of a name for his hopefully soon-to-be computer buddy, at least. Jarvis. Or, “just a rather very intelligent system.” Rhodey rolled his eyes when Tony announced it, but not even his Debbie Downer attitude could take away from his moment of creative genius. 

Lifting his cigarette-clad fingers to his mouth again, he cursed himself for leaving so early again. He could have stayed in bed a while longer, maybe jerked off a bit before going to school, but his mind was retaliating against him again. He felt antsy, and so he took off at dawn, driving around Cambridge with a pack of cigarettes and a morning coffee, trying anything to take his mind off, well, his mind. Tony could feel himself getting bad again, but he didn’t want to worry Rhodey. He certainly didn’t want it getting back to his father. Not after what happened last time. 

It felt like he’d been standing in this parking lot for half an hour. Grumbling about his best friend, he dug his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. 7:55. Rhodey was usually the suspiciously early one. Something about preparing for his entry into the military. Tony rolled his eyes and scoffed when Rhodey first announced his plans to be a career army man, calling him a blind idiot, but pointed out he didn’t want Rhodey’s friendship if it was based on Tony’s last name. His father may be the U.S. government’s largest weapons manufacturer, but that wasn’t something he was interested in taking over. Rhodey had punched him in the gut and called Tony a moron. Things were fine ten minutes later. 

It was the sound of a heavy motor churning over that caught his attention. He lazily flipped his head to the side, peering over the top of his sunglasses as Rhodey’s gigantic excuse for a jeep barreled through the parking lot, finally stopping right beside him. Rhodey gave him an apologetic look, hopping out of the truck and strapping his backpack over one shoulder. 

“Sorry, man. I got caught up with a thing back home.”

“Now, now, James. Things have arms and legs and I imagine, considering it’s you, an impressive chest,” Tony said, flicking his cigarette to the side, gracefully pushing himself off his car to walk beside his best friend. “What’s her name?”

“Maybe it wasn’t a girl.”

“Her name?”

“I could have gotten stuck in traffic, or maybe there was an accident back home or—”

“Honey bear, I only have so much patience. What’s her name?”

Rhodey sighed. “Pepper.”

“Her name is  _ Pepper _ ? Like the spice?”

“Well, her real name is Virginia,” Rhodey clarified, blushing a little. “But she hates it, so tells everyone to call her Pepper.”

“Understandably.”

Rhodey glared at Tony, holding the door open. “I think you’d really like her, man. She’s smart. And doesn’t put up with bullshit.”

“And you deduced all of this in a 25-minute conversation,” Tony asked skeptically. 

“We got into an argument over a box of laundry detergent in the hall...wait, how did you know it was 25 minutes?”

Tony smirked at him, taking the stairs two at a time. “Your morning routine is almost as predictable as the reason you’d be willing to show up late. I can track it down to the second, honey bear.” 

“I hate you,” Rhodey sighed, opening the door to their classroom, watching as Tony walked through it. 

“No you don’t. I’m immensely lovable.” 

Their class was already full, but the professor hadn’t shown up yet. A win for Rhodey, Tony thought. He walked up a flight of steps over to his desk at the far back of the room, deciding to leave his sunglasses on to help with the glaring iridescent light glaring at him from the ceiling, and taking out his laptop. He was hoping to make some progress on JARVIS during their class. Rhodey was sitting next to one of his military reserve pals in the middle of the class, laughing about something. Tony assumed it had to do with this newfound Pepper, who he admitted intrigued him. Rhodey could be pretty intimidating, especially before 10am. For someone to take him on over a box of laundry detergent — it was impressive. 

“Saw you standing outside by yourself like a weirdo for quite a while this morning.” 

“I swear to god, bird brain,” Tony said menacingly, but smirked up at his other best friend, Clint Barton. 

“Why didn’t you just come to the cafeteria? Nat was hanging around,” Clint said, sitting down beside Tony and pulling out his own laptop. 

“I didn’t realize your nest was called the cafeteria.”

“Fuck off.”

“I was smoking,” Tony answered, looking at his friend over the rim of his sunglasses. “Had a late night.” 

“I can smell the whiskey on you,” Clint answered, giving Tony a hard look but replying without any judgement. 

“I’m a night shower person, Barton. Sue me.”

“I will if you continue to force me to breathe through my mouth. I’m just trying to get an education here, Stark.”

“Fuck off,” Tony laughed, lightly pushing Clint. 

The classroom door opened then, causing the class to quiet down as Professor Milton walked toward his desk. Papers ruffled and laptops sprung to life. Tony settled down further into his chair, pulling up the early code he started on last night. Most of it still made sense, which was impressive. Drunk coding usually led to scrambled numbers and letters that produced nonsense, but the framework of what he needed was still in-tact. 

It wasn’t long before Tony was in his own zone. His speedy, distractible mind honed in on the continuous line of code before him. These were the moments he cherished when he worked. He was firing on all cylinders. Nothing mattered but getting this right; solving the problem that only he could solve to a question only he asked. He loved being left alone with his mind when his mind was moving at 180 miles an hour on one specific engineering problem. It was only when his mind drifted, when it decided to focus on other things, that he floundered. 

Tony was getting ready to introduce the next part of the framework into his code when he felt Clint elbow him in the ribs. First off, ow. He ignored his friend’s antics, assuming he was going to point out some hot dude doing some hot thing. That’s what they usually did. Tony was open about his sexuality and, even though Rhodey didn’t care who Tony slept with, it wasn’t always as easy to be as lewd as he wanted. When Clint and Tony became friends, he found that kinship. They started as a one night stand — an insanely hot one night stand — and found themselves falling into a quick friendship. The more they got to know each other, the more they loved one another, but any hint of a romantic relationship died. Clint and Tony adored each other, but they realized they didn’t want to be each other’s boyfriend. 

“Dude,” Clint whispered harshly, elbowing him in the ribs again.

“Barton, do it one more time and see where my foot ends up,” Tony spat, but looked at his friend regardless. 

“Look,” Clint said, nodding his head to the front of the class. 

Tony looked over, opened his mouth a little, and actually removed his sunglasses. Now, that was interesting. Professor Milton was standing at the front of the class, arms shaking at his sides, slightly red in the face while he yelled at another student. Tony had never seen the kid, but he certainly had his full attention now. The kid was about his height, maybe a little taller, with adorable curly hair, freckles, and glasses. He was wearing a torn black hoodie, ripped black jeans, and a black beanie, but everything was put together in a tidy fashion. He was standing at the chalkboard, whipping left and right as he erased parts of an equation and replaced it with new data points. 

Tony leaned forward, ignoring the stupid grin he could see Clint wearing from the corner of his eye. He was mesmerized. Not by the man’s looks, or his outfit, but by the equation he was writing. It was brilliant. And it fixed what Milton had gotten wrong. But more than that, Tony recognized those manic movements. He recognized being so lost in your own world that nothing else, not even a physics professor at MIT yelling at you, could distract you from finishing the puzzle, from solving the question. 

He wasn’t the only one transfixed. The room seemed dead silent aside from Milton’s yelling. But this kid was so close. Tony was processing his work just as fast as the mysterious man scrawling across the chalkboard. It was like their brains were dancing the same choreographed routine. Tony wanted to cheer watching him work. ‘C’mon,’ he thought. ‘You’re so close. Come on, come on.’

“NO!”

The kid stopped. Everyone in the class was looking back at Tony. Clint and Rhodey looked at each other, silently questioning their friend’s behavior. Milton, who moved to put his hand on the kid’s shoulder and pull him back from the chalkboard, looked shocked. This was the first time that Tony had said anything in his class. Ever.

“Let him finish,” Tony said, watching as the kid tensed. “He’s almost there.”

Milton looked between the two men, seemingly frozen in place, but removed his hand. The kid didn’t do anything for a few seconds, but slowly started writing again. The entire class watched as the rest of the equation was completed. The kid stood back a little, looking at his work on the chalkboard, before turning around to face Milton. 

“I’m...I don’t know what came over me, I’m sorry,” he said. 

“That’s not like you, Mr. Banner,” Milton said, still red in the face but calmer than before. 

“I know. I’m really sorry. I really don’t know what happened. I just—”

“He needed to solve it,” Tony said, watching as all the heads turned back to look at him again. “You were wrong, Milton, and he needed to solve it.”

“Mr. Stark, I know you think you’re smarter than everyone here—”

“I am smarter than everyone here,” Tony scoffed, hearing Clint laugh. But then he looked at this mysterious man — Banner — who was looking right back at him. “Well, maybe not everyone.” 

“If you feel that way, Mr. Stark, then why are you in this class?”

“Good question,” Tony said, throwing his laptop into his bag, throwing his sunglasses on his face. “Rat-a-tat, you want to come with me?”

He watched as the kid widened his eyes a little, looking back and forth between a newly seething Milton and Tony. “Uh, well—”

“Up to you, rat-a-tat,” he said, walking down the steps. “But I promise you that I’ll be more interesting than whatever Milton is spouting off and just as interesting as that equation.”

“I mean, uh—”

“One you could have done in three less steps.”

The kid snapped his head up at that, furrowing his brow. Tony watched as his brain kicked into overdrive trying to figure it out. He recognized that look. It’s the same one Rhodey and Clint said he got on his face when he was onto something and got sucked back into his own brain. 

“No, I couldn’t have.”

“Yes, you could,” Tony said, walking right up to him, smirking. “Wanna know how?”

The kid couldn’t stop himself from nodding. Tony glanced back at Milton, grinning from ear-to-ear, and told the kid to meet him outside. He could hear Clint laughing extremely loud at the back of the class, and could sense Rhodey shaking his head in disapproval. It didn’t matter. Tony didn’t need this class, or the bullshit old school physics that Milton was teaching. He did, however, need to know everything about this kid. Including his name. 

“So,” Tony said when the kid walked out of the class, backpack on and hands in his jean pockets. “Does local boy genius have a name?”

“Uh, yeah,” the kid stammered, taking out his hand to offer Tony. “Bruce. Bruce Banner.”

“Bruce Banner,” Tony said, looking at Bruce’s outstretched hand, sticking out his tongue slightly as he thought. “Why does that name sound familiar? Have you done something that I would remember?”

“I’m not sure,” Bruce whispered, sticking his hand back in his pocket, blushing. 

“Don’t take it personally, I don’t shake hands,” Tony said, walking with Bruce out into the parking lot. “Not a germaphobe or anything, before you ask. I don’t like people handing me things or generally touching me unless I initiate it.” 

“Oh,” Bruce said, nodding. “That makes sense.”

“Does it,” Tony questioned, unconvinced and amused.

“Not really, but, uh, you intimidate me, so I don’t really know what to say,” Bruce answered earnestly. 

“Why rat-a-tat, you flatter me,” Tony said, flashing Bruce one of his genuine smiles. “But stop it. What I saw in there, you’re a genius, Banner. And not just in a complementary, ‘I’m trying to get in your pants’ MIT type of way. But genuine genius.”

“I don’t know about that,” Bruce answered, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Tony watched him, and shook his head. “Yes you do. Don’t do that. Humility is pedestrian. Fuck it. You smoke?”

Bruce shook his head, watching as Tony took out a couple of cigarettes from his pack. Tony nodded, asked Bruce if he minded waiting for a second while Tony indulged his habit, and leaned back against the trunk of his car. He watched Bruce shuffle back and forth on his feet, fix his beanie, and fidget. There was something about this kid, Tony thought. He was drawn to him. He couldn’t place it. Sure, Bruce was cute, but he’s not someone Tony would single out in a crowded bar for some late night fun. There was something else about the unassuming nerd in front of him that made Tony want to decipher every last piece of the Bruce Banner sized puzzle standing before him. 

“What’s your story,” Tony asked, jumping on top of the trunk, patting the space beside him.

“My story?”

“Yeah, how’d you wind up at Boston’s second-most famous college?”

“Talk like that will get you hurt around here you know,” Bruce said, smirking. 

“A joke, Banner? Color me impressed, Crayola,” Tony said, smirking. 

“Ha,” Bruce deadpanned, but stopped fidgeting nonetheless. “I got a scholarship.”

Tony took a long drag, and pointed a finger accusingly at Bruce. “I’m sure you got a ton of scholarship offers. Why MIT?”

“Why did you choose MIT,” Bruce retorted, a little bit of bark to his question. 

“Got me the hell out of New York and away from my dad,” Tony answered easily. He didn’t know why he felt so at ease with Bruce, but he did. 

“Yeah,” Bruce said, looking at the school. “I guess I always dreamed of being a physicist and studying at MIT.”

Tony nodded. “But you know more than Milton does. I bet you know more than most of your professors.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d say—”

“Again, humility is pedestrian. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You’re not wrong,” Bruce contended, staring back up at Tony. 

“It’s a weird feeling, right?”

“Being smarter than a teacher,” Bruce asked, confused.

“Getting everything you want and realizing that having all your dreams come true still isn’t what you thought,” Tony said, exhaling and watching Bruce’s reaction. 

“Why are you so interested in talking to me,” Bruce said, his voice even but colder than before. “We’ve been in the same class all semester, you’ve never acknowledged my existence. Suddenly you want to know about my hopes and dreams?”

“I don’t notice most people, really,” Tony said, taking another drag. “I notice potential one-night stands and I notice obnoxious people who spend their time trying to be noticed, but most people float by me.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t notice people, Banner, but I do notice brilliance,” Tony said. “And your work today was brilliant.”

“Not as good as what you would have done though,” Bruce said with a slight edge. 

“Don’t be offended,” Tony offered, tossing his cigarette butt off to the side and jumping off the trunk. “I don’t think I’m smarter than you. Just more clever.” 

“Excuse me?”

“Do you drink coffee,” Tony asked, walking to his car door. 

“No,” Bruce answered, but uncrossed his arms. “Tea.”

“Of course you drink tea,” Tony muttered. “You want to know how I’d solve it in three steps less still?”

He watched as Bruce nodded, and tapped the roof of his car. “Let’s go get some coffee and talk science, Brucey bear. I need more caffeine. My headache is starting to make itself known again.” 

“Brucey bear,” he asked, walking over to the passenger side. 

“I give all my cute friends nicknames,” Tony answered easily, starting the ignition and turning down the AC/DC that came blaring out. 

“Friends?”

“Surprised you stumbled over that and not cute,” Tony said, laughing when Bruce turned bright red. “But yeah, I think we’re going to be fast friends, Brucey bear.” 

"I thought I was rat-a-tat," Bruce answered, snuggling into the passenger seat. 

"Dressed like that you are," he said, laughing at Bruce's groan of indignation. "But I think from here on out, you'll be Brucey bear."

Bruce looked at him, quizzically. "Why?"

"Because you're cute," Tony said, looking back at Bruce with his signature smirk in place as he pulled up to a stop sign. "Cute friends deserve cute nicknames."


	2. "I'm not really good at making friends"

Blue’s coffee shop was far enough away from campus that students didn’t usually clamor to its booths throughout the day. It was one of Tony’s favorite spots in Cambridge. The coffee was strong enough for his taste buds, and the only other people who frequented it throughout the day were local construction workers who left him alone. He didn’t have to be Tony Stark at Blue’s, and anywhere he could get away from his name was a haven. 

His favorite barista, Loki, was working behind the bar. Loki was odd; he was beautiful enough to be a male model, and knew it, but Tony never saw him with another woman or man. Instead, he seemed to spend all of his time at Blue’s, making coffee and reading. Tony never saw him with the same book, either. It was only through being his annoyingly charming self that he managed to become friends with the Norwegian, and learned that Loki was getting his PhD in comparative literature while working on his own novel. He also learned that Loki could match his silver tongue, and liked to vocally spar whenever the opportunity presented itself. 

“Reindeer games,” Tony yelled, walking through the door with Bruce. 

“As always Stark, your presence has greatly dampened my day,” Loki drawled, glancing up in a bored fashion from his book. 

“You try to hurt my feelings every time I come in, Lokes, and all it does is make me want to kiss you.” 

Loki rolled his eyes, but smirked. Tony grinned back, walking up to the counter and leaning down, resting his head on his hand. He never managed to get Loki to hang out with him outside of the cafe, but he didn’t mind. Having Loki at Blue’s as a constant made him feel safe in a way he didn’t quite understand, but wanted it to continue. There weren’t many places he felt at peace, but Blue’s was one of them. 

“Who’s your friend,” Loki asked, peeking over Tony’s shoulder to look at a visibly uncomfortable Bruce. 

“Local genius,” Tony said, glancing back at Bruce. “Who drinks tea.”

“Everyone has their faults,” Loki said, standing up and grabbing two cups. “One tea and one extra large black coffee coming up.”

“Thanks, Lokes,” Tony said, depositing a $20 bill on the counter and walking to a table by a large window. “Your first mistake was doing the math logically and not laterally.” 

Bruce slid into the seat across from Tony, taking off his hood and scratching the hair sticking out from beneath his beanie. Tony couldn’t deny that Bruce was attractive. Extremely. The fact that he was so unassuming and clearly had no idea just made him that much sexier. Tony wanted to see him unravel in his hands, in his mouth, while Bruce was inside him. He shifted in his seat, his pants becoming a little too tight. 

“Where?”

“Hmm,” Tony hummed, still staring at Bruce’s face. 

“Where did I go wrong?”

“Oh, uh, right,” Tony coughed, refocusing on the reason Bruce came all the way out to Blue’s with him in the first place. “Near the end. You could have inverted the tree you were working on and that would have led you to the same answer without having to do the extra math. Not that math isn’t fun or sexy, but—”

“But if you start at the bottom of the equation, you’re taking a risk on logic,” Bruce interrupted, whipping out a pencil and writing down the steps he took to solve the equation on a napkin. 

“Are you doing this from memory,” Tony said, leaning over to watch Bruce’s movements. 

“Look see,” Bruce said, turning the napkin around. “Your way is a guess that it works out. There’s nothing in the equation leading up to that point to suggest you can invert it. Guessing could just as easily lead to the wrong answer.”

“No, it’s not,” Tony said, taking Bruce’s pencil and pointing to the third step in his solution. “It’s right here. This number is the most important. Once you see it, and think beyond the formula, you can also see where it ends.”

Tony sketched out his own version of the answer on a different napkin, stopping to show Bruce every once in a while how his mind processed every data point that came with new information. People normally can’t keep up when he gets into this space, but Bruce was right there with him, pointing out other aspects of the formula he didn’t even take into account. He could feel Bruce’s knee rising and falling with every tap his foot made; his excitement was palpable. They were both so lost in the math problem, in each other’s quick input, that neither noticed when Loki dropped their drinks off, or the look on the barista’s face before he went back to reading behind the counter. 

“Fuck,” Bruce whispered, finally sitting back but still bouncing his knee. “You’re as smart as you think, huh.”

“Probably smarter,” Tony joked, gulping down the coffee in front of him. “But don’t sell yourself short. That...most people don’t keep up with me like you did.”

“I know I can be kind of intense,” Bruce replied sheepishly, running his hand over this beanie again and offering Tony a look that went straight to his dick. 

“I like it,” Tony said, watching Bruce blush. “I like intense people. I can be intense, too.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Bruce said, giving him a look. 

‘Fuck,’ Tony thought. He wanted to reach over and grab the back of Bruce’s head, crash their lips together and make out in the middle of the cafe until Tony could bring him back to their apartment. He had never felt an immediate attraction to someone this intensely. But Tony didn’t want to have a one night stand with Bruce. Fuck, he didn’t even know if Bruce was gay. All he knew was that Bruce seemed like someone who Tony could really like, and that scared the crap out of him. Tony didn’t do closeness. He lived by one constant rule: everyone leaves. Or, at least, everyone leaves him.

“Why a physicist,” Tony asked, trying to shake him from his thoughts. 

“Well, I want to combine that with biology and work on developing radical therapies for immunocompomised systems,” Bruce answered easily. “Physics helps me understand the logic of biology that studying cells can’t. They compliment each other perfectly.” 

“You want to save the world, huh?”

“At least a few people.”

“Mom or dad?”

Bruce cocked his head to the side, squinting his eyes. “What?”

“No one chases a career so devoted to finding a cure for such a specific thing unless they have a personal connection to it,” Tony answered, drinking the last of his coffee. “It could be a sibling, sure, but I have a feeling it’s a parent, someone you had to help out with. So, mom or dad?”

“I’m not talking about this,” Bruce said, standing up and grabbing his backpack off the back of his chair. “Fuck you, Tony.”

“Woah, woah, woah, where are you going,” Tony asked, standing up with him. 

“I’m not interested in your shitty attempts at Sherlock Holmsing me,” Bruce seethed, walking toward the door. “You showed me how to solve the equation faster, and you are brilliant, but you’re an asshole.”

Tony winced. It was the first time that Bruce had said his name and it wasn’t spoken in a way that Tony imagined. Well, Tony imagined it coming out in a long moan as Bruce’s hands fisted in his hair while Tony slid his mouth deeper down Bruce’s cock, but even just spoken in a laugh would have sufficed. He pushed too far, too fast. Rhodey always told him that he needed to learn when to pull back, but Tony never quite figured it out. 

“Bruce, wait!”

Bruce stopped, hand on the doorknob and looked at Tony. 

“Look, I’m sorry, man, really,” Tony said, grabbing his own bag and walking toward Bruce. “I can be an asshole, I know. I don’t know why. It’s hard for me to turn off.”

“So,” Bruce asked, walking out of the cafe. 

“So let me make it up to you, please,” Tony called after him. “At least let me drive you home. It’s cold, man.”

Bruce stopped, and turned back to look at Tony. He was only wearing a sweater, and it was possibly colder than it was this morning. Tony gave him a pleading look and stepped forward again. 

“I’m not really good at making friends,” Tony said, sticking his hands in his pockets. 

“I find that extremely hard to believe,” Bruce scoffed, but gave Tony a look that suggested he should keep going. 

“No, it’s true,” Tony said. “People like me, and I like people. I get along well with people, and they want to hang around me in return. But actual friends? That’s harder for me.” 

“Why,” Bruce pressed, his arms starting to unfold slightly, his shoulders visibly relaxing. 

“I don’t know,” Tony lied, looking at Bruce and hoping he bought it. “But I do know that I want to be friends with you.” 

“Why,” Bruce asked again, taking a couple of steps closer to Tony. “You’ve known me a full two hours. Why do you want to be friends with me so badly. You don’t even know me.” 

“Because you speak english,” Tony answered honestly. 

“What?”

“You get what I’m saying when I talk,” Tony added. “I don’t have to slow down with you, and I’ve never met anyone who kept up with me like that.”

Tony looked at Bruce, watching as the other genius’ mind worked behind his eyes. Tony knew Bruce was processing what he just said, trying to figure out if Tony was worth believing. He knew that look. It was the same one he had whenever he talked to his dad, whenever his mom promised that his dad was trying to be better. But he never did prove it. Tony learned a long time ago to accept that his father, like him, was a broken man. Tony couldn’t blame him. Howard’s brokenness lived in his son. 

Bruce leaned his head back and exhaled dramatically, his breath coming out in a wisp of white that lifted into the cold October sky. He looked at Tony and gave him a soft smile. Tony smiled slightly back, hoping he patched things up enough that Bruce was willing to give him a second chance. 

“You’re a genius, Stark. But you’re also an idiot,” Bruce teased.

“I want to learn to be better. Do you tutor,” Tony quipped, a little more flirtatious than he wanted to be, but deciding to lean into it anyway. 

Bruce looked away, but Tony noticed the reddish tinge covering his cheeks. ‘Huh,’ he thought. ‘Note to self: get him to do that again and again.’ He shuffled on his feet, before nodding his head back at Tony’s car. 

“You want a lesson in friendship?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay then,” Bruce nodded. “How do you feel about midday movies and chicken fingers?”

“Only if there are car crashes and barbecue sauce,” Tony replied, nodding his head enthusiastically. 

Bruce laughed, and Tony felt his chest tighten at the sound of it. ‘Fuck,’ he thought. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ It was easy to be around Bruce, and it made Tony want to impress him all the time. He needed Bruce to like him just as much as he liked Bruce. It terrified him. He hadn’t felt this way since Justin. He shook his head, trying to erase the thoughts of his high school boyfriend, and everything that came after. 

“There’s a matinee screening of Night of the Living Dead, one of my favorites,” Bruce said, talking over his shoulder as he walked back to Tony’s car. “You can make up whatever this was supposed to be with a movie and chicken fingers from McClusky’s after.”

“You know, you’re way more confident now than you were an hour ago,” Tony said, but racing to catch up to Bruce nonetheless. 

“Movies and chicken fingers? I’m in my zone,” Bruce pointed out as they settled into the car. 

“Yeah? So its horror movies, poultry, and science,” Tony asked, turning the ignition, and pulling out of the parking spot. 

“My zones,” Bruce affirmed, glancing over at Tony. “You have anything like that?”

“Yeah,” Tony muttered, not taking his eyes off the road. “Uh, I have this project I’m working on right now. It’s an AI thing.”

“An AI  _ thing _ ?”

“It’s … more advanced than modern AI,” Tony clarified. “I call him Jarvis. He’s more than a bot or a helper or a companion. He’s a thinking entity, who can process billions of equations and break down data faster than any other computer mankind has conceived of. Jarvis is the future.”

Tony could hear the excitement in his voice rise with every word, but he couldn’t help it. There was nothing he loved more than Jarvis. Maybe his mom. Probably his mom. But Jarvis was his life. If he could figure out Jarvis, he could start working on solving so many more of the problems that kept him awake at night. He could change the world in a way his father couldn’t. He would use Jarvis to start a path toward good, getting away from Stark Industries and its weapons once and for all. 

Bruce hadn’t said anything, and Tony was worried that maybe he misjudged the man sitting beside him. They only knew each other for a couple of hours, as Bruce pointed out. Maybe he wasn’t as into science — or science that wasn’t related to the human body — like Tony assumed. Maybe he was going to drive away this brilliant, beautiful boy because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut about Jarvis. It wasn’t even like Jarvis was close to being shown off. ‘God Tony,’ he berated himself. ‘You’re such an idio-’

“That’s really, really, cool, Tony,” Bruce said, sincerity and admiration palpable in his voice. 

“I only do cool things, Banner,” Tony puffed, trying to exert a confidence he didn’t have ten seconds ago. “Have you seen my hair?”

“And there he is.”

“You know you love me Brucey-bear,” Tony winked. 

“I tolerate you right now. Let’s see if I get to the point of liking you.”

Tony forced a laugh and pretended like it didn’t sting a little. It was true they didn’t know each other very well yet, but Tony sensed this instant connection from the second he saw Bruce’s work on the chalkboard. He thought the other man did, too. But this is what Tony does. It’s what got him in trouble before. He steeled himself against his own feelings. There was no way in hell he was going down that path again. 

They pulled into the mostly empty parking lot. It was a Tuesday after all. And barely one in the afternoon. How many people in Boston were clamoring for a zombie flick to start their day in the middle of the school week? Tony pulled into a spot closest to the theater doors, not wanting to get caught in the snow that kept threatening to fall. He wasn’t wearing a heavy jacket and, despite his protests at Rhodey, he really was a baby when it came to the cold. 

The theater was also lacking in people. They settled on Tony picking up the tickets for the movie while Bruce bought them a small bag of popcorn. Tony had tried to protest, arguing that Bruce told him at the cafe he was supposed to treat them to the entire afternoon, but Bruce insisted. They snagged a couple of seats in the back row. There were a few other kids their age hanging out in the theater and an elderly couple who Tony deemed instantly rad for being at the screening, but it was still mostly empty. 

“How did you know about this matinee show anyway,” Tony whispered. “I wouldn’t take you for a horror head.”

“A horror head,” Bruce whispered back, amused. “What’s a horror head?”

“Someone who loves horror movies, obviously. You can be pretty dumb for a local boy genius, Brucey-bear,” Tony said while still whispering, rolling his eyes. 

“I’ve just never heard that term. I don’t think it’s real,” Bruce argued. “But no. I just really love this movie. My mom and I would watch it all the time.”

“Would? She lost interest in the zombies?”

“She died.”

“Oh,” Tony whispered, trying to hide his surprise. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t worry about it. It happened a long time ago. I was still a kid,” Bruce said, offering a comforting smile. “Besides, you only just spoke to me for the first time today.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that too,” Tony replied, feeling worse and worse by the second. 

“It’s really okay, Tony. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad,” Bruce said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honest. It’s okay.”

“Still, my bad,” Tony whispered, reaching over to grab more popcorn out of the bag on Bruce’s lap, trying not to think about how close his hand was getting to Bruce’s dick.

“Hey,” Bruce whispered, waiting for Tony to look at him. “It’s okay.”

Tony gave him the best smile he could imagine. “Okay.”

“Also,” Bruce said, looking around conspicuously, before asking seriously, “why are we whispering?”

Tony laughed so hard his whole body shook. He looked at Bruce, trying to stifle his laughs after the elderly couple a few rows down turned back to look at the pair who were now huddled over a bucked of popcorn and trying hard not to make too much noise. Tony looked up at Bruce, his cheeks puffed out from trying not to laugh. Bruce was giggling but look confused nonetheless.

“I’m sorry,” Tony muttered between giggles. “But you just looked so serious.”

“Whispering usually implies importance!”

“Does it though,” Tony mused. “There aren’t that many people in this theater and I wanted to have some semblance of a private conversation.”

“That’s sweet, Tony,” Bruce whispered back, smiling, turning his body around as the lights dimmer and the movie started to play.

Bruce’s eyes never left the screen. Tony knew this because he spent just as much time watching the zombies chasing terrified humans in the movie as he did glancing at Bruce’s face. Tony knew he was developing a crush — fast. Far quicker than he usually did. It scared him. A lot. He didn’t do feelings. He spent his entire life running away from feelings. 

But Bruce felt different. Tony wanted to make him feel good. He wanted to take care of Bruce, and wanted Bruce to care about him. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t like Bruce was similar to Justin in any sense, but that was the closest thing he could compare this sudden onslaught of feelings to. He wouldn’t put himself through that again. Not for Bruce. Not for anyone.

None of his self-take mantra helped. Every time Tony glanced at Bruce, he felt his chest tighten a little and his stomach clench. He wanted to take Bruce’s hand, run his thumb over the top of it. Instead, he just forced himself to stare back at the screen whenever he caught himself looking at Bruce’s curious smile, as Bruce watched some zombie get mutilated on screen. The last thing he needed right now was to fall head over heels for someone he just met. 

It was the longest two hours of Tony’s life. When the credits finally started playing, and the lights began to lift, it took everything inside of him not to just dash out of the theater. But he promised Bruce a movie  _ and  _ chicken fingers. If this was anyone else, he would have faked a headache or just declared that he wanted to go home. He didn’t want to leave Bruce, though. And he still felt bad for being a dick earlier. 

“Chicken time?” Tony asked as they walked to the exit. 

“Only if you’re still up for it,” Bruce suggested, wrapping his hoodie around himself. “I’ve already taken up a good portion of your day.” 

This was his chance. He could cut the day early, go home, get drunk with Clint, and Natasha, and listen to Rhodey talk about his new girl, Pepper. All he had to do was say he was tired and he could go take care of the flurry of thoughts racing through his brain. 

“Of course,” Tony answered easily. “I never say no to good chicken fingers, Banner. Or food. Or drinks. Never, ever to drinks. This place has beer, right?”

“They do, but I don’t drink,” Bruce answered. “I don’t care if you do, I just don’t.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind if I do? I can go a day without drinking,” he lied. 

“Nah,” Bruce answered. “I don’t want you to get wasted, but I don’t care if you have a beer or two.”

Tony nodded as they walked over to McClusky’s. It was just across the parking lot. Tony had only been a few times. He couldn’t remember if the chicken was as finger lickin good as Bruce made it out to be, but he was hungry. He really needed a drink, too. He wondered why Bruce was so anti-drinking, thinking back to Bruce’s freakout at Blue’s, and wondered if the other man also grew up in a shitty home. Tony wanted to ask him about it, but didn’t want to risk Bruce running out on him again, so just kept quiet until they got into the pub and found a booth where they could hang out. 

Tony watched as Bruce took his sweater off, and noticed how thin the man was underneath his hoodie. He wore a black t-shirt that seemed to drape over his body, even if it came up a little short length wise, resting just over his belt buckle. Tony took him in, fully, for what seemed like the first time. His eyes were sunken, the bags sitting under them nearly purple. ‘I guess he also doesn’t sleep much,’ Tony thought as he raked his eyes over Bruce’s figure. His clothes were well-worn, which made Tony wonder if Bruce wore them because they were all he had, not for stylistic reasons. He thought he saw something poking out from Bruce’s wrist, but before he had time to really look, Bruce shoved his hands under the table. 

“I don’t really remember the chicken fingers here being all that,” Tony said, trying to find the closest waiter or waitress so he could get a drink. His head was beginning to pound and he knew why. 

“Oh, they’re not really the best, but I love this place,” Bruce answered, coughing a little in embarrassment. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I used to come here a lot in first year,” Bruce said. “I spent nearly every weekend at the movie theater when I wasn’t working, and then I’d come here for some food. It’s actually cheaper than anything near campus.” 

“I didn’t realize you worked.” 

“I used to work at the Subway across the parking lot,” Bruce answered timidly. “Now I work part-time in the lab at school. It’s better pay and way more interesting. Looks good on a resume, too.”

“I thought the lab was only for masters students?”

“It’s supposed to be,” Bruce confirmed. “But after I corrected their previous director more than a handful of times, Doctor Fury brought me on.”

“Holy shit, Banner. That’s super fucking impressive.”

“It’s nothing really,” Bruce said, glancing down and squirming, clearly uncomfortable with the compliment. 

“Brucey-bear, be proud of your genius,” Tony said, flashing him a face-splitting grin. “Humility is—”

“Pedestrian, I know,” Bruce finished, returning the smile. 

“We’ve hung out for less than a day and we already have inside jokes, Banner,” Tony gasped. “Well, well, well.” 

Bruce went to reply, but a waiter appeared and took their orders. Tony ordered his usual, whatever bourbon whiskey the bartender recommended on the rocks, and Bruce got a Sprite. Bruce took the reins on ordering them food, calling for a plate of tenders and a plate of fries, thanking the waiter as he walked away. ‘At least he’s eating,’ Tony found himself thinking as Bruce played with a loose fray on his sweater. 

They passed the time waiting for their food with small talk, Tony nursing his drink instead of rushing through it just to get to the next one like he usually did. He didn’t want to make Bruce feel uncomfortable. Rhodey, Clint, and Natasha were already slightly uneasy around Tony when he drank, and they were his closest friends. No, he would hide his monster from Bruce. 

Talking to Bruce was the easiest thing in the world. They didn’t have much in common when it came to movies or music — things that Tony would rely on to charm someone in any conversation — but he felt an immediate kinship to Bruce. They were both insomniacs, both obsessive when it came to their projects and interests and, like Tony told Bruce earlier, could understand each other’s language. Tony had never met anyone like him. He was intoxicating. 

“We should play a game,” Tony announced suddenly, causing Bruce to look up suddenly, his mouth full of fries.

“Vhat kind of fhame,” Bruce managed to get out while still chewing on some fries. 

“I’ll let you swallow first,” Tony joked. “Unless you’d rather spit it out.”

He watched as Bruce nearly choked on his food and went extremely red. Oh, this was going to be a fun game to play. 

“I’m a little scared to ask what the game is,” Bruce said, taking a sip of his Sprite and giving Tony an apprehensive look. 

“I used to play it with Rhodey, my best friend. He’s also in our class.”

“The military guy you always come to class with?” 

“You notice who I come to class with, Brucey-bear,” Tony teased. 

“You’re loud when you walk in, and it’s always with the same guy,” Bruce answered easily, but hung his head a little anyway. “It’s impossible not to notice.” 

“My father always said I had a pathological need to be the center of attention at all times,” Tony said, barely able to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “But yeah, that’s Rhodey. We played this game when we roomed together in first year. The idea is for every fry you eat, you have to say one thing about yourself. It can be dumb or serious, but it’s a good way of getting to know someone. And eat fries.”

Bruce looked down at the semi-full plate. “There are a lot of fries.”

“That’s the best part,” Tony said, leaning over to grab one. “Whoever gives up, also forfeits their portion of the fries. Win-win all around.” 

“Okay,” Bruce said, picking up his own fry. “You go first.”

“I hate New York,” Tony said, tossing the fry in his mouth.

“I hate Ohio,” Bruce said, following suit.

“I always wanted a dog.”

“I wanted to be a wrestler when I was a kid”

“Candy corn is the best candy.”

“Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is the best book in the series.”

“I had my first kiss at 13.”

“I met my first girlfriend at 17.”

“I hate Superman.”

“I hate Superman, too.”

They went back and forth until the plate was done, both trying to outdo the other with their mirrored responses. Tony was enamored with the man in front of him, who kept him on his toes. He didn’t want to the day to end, but Bruce had asked for the check when their waiter walked by their table. It was getting close to eight by the time they walked back to Tony’s car. 

They sat in a comfortable silence for most of the drive, Bruce throwing Tony a direction every once in a while as they drove to to his apartment. He was feeling nervous about asking Bruce to hang out again. It was a weird sensation. Usually Tony just yelled a time and place at people, not thinking twice about whether they’d show up. Bruce wasn’t everyone else though. Bruce was, well, Bruce. 

Tony pulled into the driveway of Bruce’s apartment complex. It was slightly rundown, and not in a great area of Cambridge. But Tony assumed it meant cheaper rent. 

“Thanks for the chicken fingers and decapitated heads,” Tony said, turning to Bruce slightly. 

“Thanks for hanging out,” Bruce replied. “I don’t...I don’t have many friends. This was...this was nice.”

“Do you want to hang out again tomorrow night,” Tony asked, hating how nervous his voice came out sounding. 

“I have to get some work done in the lab tomorrow,” Bruce said.

“Right, right. I get it, well may-”

“Do you want to come work in the lab?” Bruce interrupted, looking at Tony.

“Huh?”

“Come to the lab,” Bruce said. “I can make a space for you to work on your AI project. It’s small and not very impressive, but it’s usually pretty quiet in the lab and no one will bother you to leave. It’s my favorite place in the world.”

“You’re asking me to come do science with you?” 

“I know it’s not zombies and chicken fingers, but—”

“It’s better,” Tony interrupted. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Great,” Bruce replied, getting out of the car and poking his head back in. “Biology building. Room 224B. Come around anytime after seven.”

“It’s a science date, Banner.”


	3. Science Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am suffering from major writer's block, so this chapter isn't particularly good. But it's done! And that's a start.

Tony didn’t realize the B in 224B stood for basement, but the second he set his eyes on the space Bruce loved so much, he understood why. It was candyland. The lab practically took up the entire floor. It was full of complicated looking machines, all whirring and whizzing as they processed the complex data being fed to them by hungry, ambitious MIT students. It was a crowded space, almost claustrophobic. Tony was a minimalistic person. He just needed an open floor to drop his tools that allowed for his tinkering. There were specimen jars everywhere, and toxic waste bags that made him blanche a little, finding himself thankful for people like Bruce and his colleagues who wanted to deal with all the nasty if brilliant parts of the human body. 

There was a tiny space at the back that looked like it had been cleared recently. Equipment was messily thrown around the sides of the clearing, tarps still dusty covering things Tony didn’t want to think about. It was a rush job, but it was nice. There was a part of him that hoped Bruce had come to the lab earlier in the day to prepare this makeshift garage for him. 

He realized after driving home from his day with Bruce last night that he couldn’t help the feelings he was quickly starting to develop. He would hide them from Bruce, of course. He wasn’t going to get himself hurt. He learned better three years ago. He would just have to admire Bruce from afar. Tony could still fantasize about the “what if” though. That didn’t hurt anyone. Walking through the door last night, whistling the riff to AC/DC’s “Back in Black,” and throwing himself on top of Rhodey declaring he had the best day, however, might have been a little much. 

He walked through the lab looking for Bruce. The other scientist had been right — it really was totally empty. Seven wasn’t exactly late, especially for MIT standards, but it was October. Cambridge came alive in October. Everyone went off and did Autumn things, like picking apples and drinking ciders at the local bars. Even Rhodey was spending his evening talking to Pepper over pumpkin spice lattes with Pepper, droning on and on about whatever Rhodey used to impress women. 

Tony found him head down over a microscope, completely engrossed in whatever he was looking at. Bruce had tiny frown lines around his mouth, his right hand moving the knob on the right hand of the machine backward and forward with precise movements. It was like watching an ice skater glide across the rink, knowing they were captivating an arena full of people. Except Bruce didn’t know Tony was there. This was just him. Bruce, with his adorably curly hair and disheveled skinny jeans, caught in his own world. More than anything, Tony was attracted to Bruce’s mind, and seeing him work like this, seeing him exist so peacefully as he tried to figure out a solution to whatever problem he tasked himself with, was extraordinarily hot. 

“Are you looking at a really disgusting body thing?” Tony asked as he leaned against one of the machines. 

Bruce jumped, turning around to face Tony with a hand over his chest and an embarrassed smile on his face. “Jesus, Tony. I didn’t even hear you come in.” 

“I know,” Tony joked. “You were very much in the zone, Brucey-bear.” 

“Yeah, I usually get like this in the lab, sorry,” Bruce offered, straightening himself up having collected his wits. 

“I once went four days without sleep because I was working on this machine prototype I became obsessed with,” Tony said, walking over to Bruce’s workstation. “I get it. I don’t talk much to people when I work. I talk to myself a lot. When I’m trying to figure out something I’m stuck on. I’m hoping once Jarvis is alive and functioning I’ll be able to talk to him and he can do some of the processing for me faster than I ever could.” 

“Having an AI robot to talk to at three in the morning would be nice,” Bruce nodded. 

“Yeah. So?” Tony asked, gesturing to Bruce’s microscope.

“So?”

“Are you looking at a really disgusting body thing?”

“Oh,” Bruce laughed. “It depends on what you mean by disgusting. It’s a collection of immunocompromised cells that I’m trying to save through mutation.”

“How?” Tony asked, peering over the microscope to look at the moving organisms. 

“Gamma ray.”

“You’re working with gamma radioactivity? By yourself?” Tony asked incredulously. He looked a little closer at the cells dancing around the sample palette, and noticed the green tinge poking around the organism’s edges. 

“It’s uh not an unsafe amount—”

“I thought we didn’t really know  _ what  _ a safe amount of gamma ray exposure is,” Tony interrupted, stepping back from the microscope a little. 

“That’s why I can’t go through the official routes on this,” Bruce admitted. “Gamma ray treatment for immunocompromised patients isn’t exactly FDA approved, but there are healing elements at its core that we haven’t experimented with in a meaningful way. If we can figure out a way to surface those properties and fundamentally lower the radiation exposure, it’s not much different from chemotherapy.”

“Which is poison.”

“Still the best option we have,” Bruce answered roughly, turning back to look at Tony. “Look Tony, for some reason, I trust you. I don’t know what it is, but I like hanging out with you and I trust you. That’s why I invited you here. But this project I’m working on, it’s not approved and no one really knows that I’m doing it. I can’t have anyone going to Dea-”

“The only thing I like more than science is top secret groundbreaking science,” Tony assured him, throwing his backpack on the ground and taking out his laptop. “Go bezerk and inject yourself with it to see what happens. I miss the days of madmen geniuses accidentally discovering heroin while trying to make aspirin.”

“I’m not going to inject myself with gamma.”

“Probably for the best,” Tony agreed. “So, where should I post up? I’m going to be working on a bunch of code. I hate this part of projects.”

“Really?”

“I’m an engineer by major, but a mechanic at heart,” Tony sighed dramatically. “All I want to do is tinker. Once I get to actually building Jarvis, I’ll be MIA.” 

“That makes a ton of sense actually,” Bruce said, gesturing Tony to follow him.

“What makes you say that?” 

“You’re super ADD,” Bruce teased. “Being able to work with your hands, move around, and kind of hyper obsess over something seems like the ideal way for you to work.” 

“Not even Adderall could hold me back.”

He smiled as Bruce laughed, secretly pleased that he could evoke the sound from the scientist’s body. Tony was worried about Bruce playing around with gamma radioactivity, but he also knew Bruce wasn’t an idiot. He would be careful if he handled a larger amount of the substance. It wasn’t like Tony was the poster child for safe experimentation, either. His body was adorned with scars he got from working on various projects. Among others. 

“I realize this isn’t exactly an engineering lab, but I made as much room as I could here for you to hang out and code, build things, draw plans,” Bruce said, leading Tony to the clearing he had seen when he first walked in. “There are some empty blueprint sheets and mechanical pencils against the back wall over there. I think this used to be a general work room before MIT heavily invested in our department.”

Tony choked back the sudden surge of emotion he felt course through him. Bruce did clear this just for him. He came in and spent at least a few minutes figuring out where Tony could work. All of this for someone he barely knew. Most people didn’t think of Tony enough to do anything meaningful for him. He wasn’t Tony to people at school. He was Tony  _ Stark _ . He was the successor to Stark Industries. He was born a billionaire and would die a multi-billionaire if the company’s projections kept. 

Everyone wanted something from Tony. He’d be lying if it didn’t make him jaded. There was a reason he kept an intimately tiny circle of real friends. Rhodey, Clint, Natasha, Steve; these were people who did think of him. They took care of him. All he ever wanted was to feel loved by people who saw past his last name. His own father couldn’t, but the tiny group of friends he found at MIT quickly became his family. 

Bruce was rapidly becoming a part of that circle Tony kept so dear to his heart. There was a kinship between the two Tony knew they both felt. It was impossible to ignore. 

“I know it’s not much,” Bruce said, rubbing his neck in a way that Tony found utterly adorable. “But—”

“It’s perfect,” he said, giving Bruce one of his rare genuine smiles. “It’s exactly what I need.” 

“Okay then! I’m going to get back to work, but I usually take a break at some point to eat. We can order something in later if you’re still here and get hungry.”

“I’m sure I’ll be around,” Tony answered easily. “Holler whenever.” 

They worked in mostly silence. Tony started playing music after an hour of being left alone, testing the waters to see if Bruce would object. He didn’t even seem to notice. If he did, he certainly didn’t care. Bruce was dashing from station to station, scribbling notes every once in a while. Tony was captivated by the biologist. He took that first music-free hour to indulge his newfound infatuation. 

It was only after he caught himself licking his lips while watching Bruce, hunched over, stare down into a microscope that he threw himself into Jarvis. Once he was back in the warm, welcoming world of his code, he was just as lost to the world as Bruce. There was an intimacy to working with his cold that Tony likened to a relationship. All consuming, energizing, promising, full of hope over what could be built. It was like his first year with Justin.

Unlike Justin, code couldn’t turn on Tony. Code couldn’t make him feel like everything that was going wrong in Justin’s life was his fault. He didn’t have to worry about waking up in the middle of the night to a drunk Justin looking to fight — or worse. He didn’t have to worry about which version of Justin he was going to get the next day. The best part about code at times was how responsive it was to Tony without demanding much in return. Maybe it was less like a relationship than he thought. He didn’t exactly have a healthy relationship to compare it to, anyway. 

After years of dealing with Justin, and another two years of being able to admit to himself that he went through an abusive relationship, still struggling to cope with the scars that left on him, Tony valued any quiet place. Code provided that to him, too. It was almost as good as building something with his hands from scratch. Nothing could compete with that feeling. Being able to point at something that he physically constructed, something of worth, that validated him in a way he never experienced before. 

“Tony!”

He jumped, startled at the yell that came from above him. Tony looked up from his computer at an amused Bruce, looming over him with his arms crossed across his chest. 

“Uh.”

"I’ve been calling you for 30 seconds,” Bruce teased.

“Oh.”

“From right here.”

“Right.”

“Can’t be more than 15 centimeters.”

“An astutely Canadian observation of you,” Tony muttered, feeling his face flush a little. He never got embarrassed. 

“We all know the metric system is superior. America’s just too proud to admit it. Kind of like—”

“Save it, Banner,” Tony chided, standing up and moving his laptop to a nearby countertop. “What can I help you with?”

Bruce glanced at Tony with a look the latter wanted to believe was adoration, but Bruce had walked back over to his own laptop sitting on a desk before Tony could really examine it. ‘Get over yourself,’ he thought, shaking his head. 

“I’m gonna order food. Thought we could hang out a little,” Bruce suggested, flopping down on a rolling chair and making his way back over to Tony with the computer situated on his lap.”Indian work for you?”

“I haven’t really had it,” Tony said, rolling his chair over to Bruce’s laptop to look at the options. 

“Really?” Bruce asked, dumbfounded. 

“Yeah, I’m a cheeseburger kind of guy. Why?”

“I just assumed, well, you know.”

“Know what?” Tony asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“I just assumed that you traveled the world because of your dad,” Bruce admitted, his cheeks flushing. 

Tony lowered his eyes, suddenly finding his hands more interesting than usual. He hated when people brought up his dad. They had a terse relationship, if you could even call it a relationship. They co-existed when they were together to make his mom happy, but they never spoke. It wasn’t for lack of trying on Tony’s part, either. He desperately wanted a relationship with his father. But Howard was cold, he was calculated. He never told Tony he loved him, he never even told Tony he liked him. 

Rhodey was the only person who knew what Howard was actually like. Tony didn’t exactly go around telling people that his father, the famous Howard Stark, was an emotionally abusive, negligent father. Maybe one day he would come to hate his dad just as much as he assumed his dad hated him, but until then, Tony was going to hold out hope. Maybe one day. Maybe. 

“I never went with him to India,” Tony managed to get out, keeping his voice as even as possible.

Bruce has become engrossed with the menu on his screen, and simply nodded at Tony’s words. “Should probably get something tame then. Spice doesn’t usually go well with people who live on a cheeseburger and chicken finger diet.” 

“I’m extremely good with spice.”

Bruce tossed a look at Tony over his shoulder. “Are you though?”

“You haven’t seen what my stomach is capable of handling, Brucey-bear.” 

“I’m calling your bluff and ordering what I usually eat then,” Bruce said, shaking his head in an amused fashion. “Any allergies?”

“Nope! That would make my infallible stomach fallible. Can’t have that.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Bruce muttered with a tiny smile, putting in their order. 

‘You’re ridiculous.’ Tony knew Bruce didn’t mean anything by it, but his mind was instantly flooded with images of his father barking at Tony for talking too much, for never shutting up. “Don’t you ever take a second to just shut up?,” his father would yell as Tony tried to talk about whatever was happening in his life. He was a kid. He was excited about everything he was learning, about beginning to explore the world he lived in. New York was an exciting place to be, especially for a kid. He just wanted to share that with his father, but Howard was never interested. He never cared for Tony’s outbursts. He never cared for Tony. 

He had to get out. 

“Hey, I’m going to go for a smoke,” Tony said, standing up suddenly, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. 

“You want company?”

“No, no, I’m good, I’ll be right back,” Tony offered nonchalantly, giving Bruce a tepid smile. 

He fumbled his fingers around the pack tucked into the back of his jacket’s inner pocket, trying to get his hand around a cigarette. He all but ran to the first door he could find, removing the lighter from his back jeans pocket. He raised a shaky hand to his lips, flicking the lighter’s back end until he managed to light the cigarette between his quivering fingers. The first deep drag was like coming up for fresh air, like he was drowning under the weight of his own looming panic attack. 

He breathed out long and hard. His whole body was trembling. Fuck. He hoped he wasn’t about to have a full blown panic attack in this parking lot while Bruce was 50 feet away. He took his phone out, and dialed Rhodey, hoping that he wasn’t balls deep in Pepper. Or about to be. ‘Please pick up,’ Tony thought, taking another drag. ‘Please, please, plea-”

“Tones! Where are you, man,” Rhodey yelled, the sounds of people yelling and loud music pulsating behind him. “You’re missing one hell of a party.” 

“Sounds like it,” Tony managed. “Rhodey, I’m, I, uh.”

“I can’t really hear you buddy,” Rhodey yelled. “It’s crazy in here rig- Hey! Watch it, dude. I will beat your ass if you push me again!”

“Rhodey, I feel …. I feel bad again,” Tony confessed, leaning against the brick wall behind him, trying to hold himself up. 

“What? Tones, you have to yell. I can’t hear anything. Hey man! What did I just tell you?” Rhodey barked away from the mouthpiece. 

“I’m not good, Rhodey!,” he yelled, his voice cracking.

“I’m gonna beat this punk’s ass,” Rhodey said. “Tones, I can’t hear you man, but come by the dorms. It’s a rager!”

The call disconnected and Tony slinked down the wall. He needed Rhodey right now. Rhodey was the only person Tony let see him like this. Usually he would grab Tony as tight as possible, holding him until the attack wore off. It didn’t last long, but Rhodey never made a big deal of out it. And he never brought up what happened after it was over. He just moved on. That’s exactly what Tony needed. 

He tried to wrap his arms around himself, hoping that he could give himself some kind of relief through pressure. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in, breathe in, breathe in, fuck he couldn’t stop breathing in, oh god. Tony felt himself start to get lightheaded. His body was shaking. He couldn’t control the trembles wracking him apart. He desperately wanted a cigarette but knew that would only make his breathing worse. His chest was beginning to clench. He had to let a big breath out, but his body wouldn’t allow for it. 

‘God, this fucking sucks,’ he thought, banging his head against the brick wall behind him, tears beginning to fall down his face. Why couldn’t Rhodey be here? Why did Tony have to go through this panic attack on his own? He didn’t want to take the pills the doctors kept trying to get him to take. Tony’s mind was the most precious thing in his life. He wasn’t about to risk it just to keep him alive. 

“Tony?”

He whipped his head to the soft voice who called his name. His body was still shaking. He could see Bruce’s eyebrows furrow in concern, his hands rubbing his upper arms over his light shirt, trying to keep himself warm. He walked over to Tony quickly, sinking down so he was kneeling directly in front of him. Tony couldn’t stop the wave of shame from rolling over him, ducking his head so Bruce wouldn’t see the tears now streaming down his face. 

“Tony, what happened?”

He shook his head, both physically unable to answer and not wanting his new friend to realize how fucked up he was so early into their friendship. He tried to regulate his breathing again, but couldn’t. The shakes were getting worse. Part of him started wishing he’d die. 

“Tony, you’re going to pass out,” Bruce said softly, his voice full of warmth. Tony couldn’t hear any judgment or frustration. “Do you mind if I hug you?”

Tony shook his head.

“I don’t really know what that means. Uh, okay. If you’re okay with it, nod. If you’re not, shake your head again.”

Tony took a second. He really didn’t want Bruce to console him. It was too much pressure for a new friend. At the same time, he wanted nothing more than to be in Bruce’s arms. The shaking was becoming unbearable. He nodded. 

Bruce wrapped his arms around Tony’s body, tucking Tony’s head under his chin. He grabbed as tight as possible, running one hand up and down Tony’s back. Bruce never said anything, just lightly hummed by Tony’s ear. Whatever Bruce was doing, it began to work. Tony’s body started to warm up, and his trembling nearly stopped. He suddenly felt exhausted, like he ran a half-marathon, instead of just sitting against a wall in the cold. 

It was only after he started to feel calm that Tony really began to appreciate what it was like to be held by Bruce. He felt like home. Tony fit into Bruce’s arms perfectly, and he felt secure in a way he never did before. Not even with Justin. Never with Justin. It took everything in Tony not to let out a sigh of contentment, especially when Bruce seemed to draw him into his embrace even further, tightening his grip. 

Tony knew he was fucked. Admiring from afar was one thing; allowing himself to get close but keeping a meticulously crafted distance. Be sad, but in control. Wait until you can get home and drink. Get enough booze in your system, and it’s easy enough to forget how fucking sad you are. Drinking washed away the feeling of incompetence. Whiskey soothed the monster back into his cave. When you’re drinking, nothing can hurt you. It’s numbing, but not in the cruel way depression often is. It’s not an apathetic numbness. It’s just pure emptiness; feeling like you could die and it doesn’t matter because nothing is real anymore. Everything exists on a floating plane of non-existence. 

Nothing felt better than being so fucking sloshed, you cut your arm bleeding and all you can do is laugh. Because you’re human, and the only way you can remember is by getting so loaded you hurt yourself just to see if you’re normal. You do bleed.  _ You bleed _ . That doesn’t fix the hole in the morning, and the scars are blistering and infected, but it gets you through the day, until you can feel nothing and everything all over again.

‘ _ Fuck, I wish I had a drink right now, _ ’ he thought.

“You okay?” Bruce whispered into his ear, causing Tony to involuntarily shiver. Bruce tightened his grip on Tony, assuming the latter was cold. 

“Me? I’m fine. I sometimes like to see how much I can make my body shake,” Tony tried to joke, beginning to pull back from Bruce. He was hitting the aftermath embarrassment and shame of his panic attacks. 

“I thought you might be trying to get out of eating Indian food,” Bruce joked, pulling Tony back into him. “Got intimidated or something.”

“Close second guess,” Tony quipped, trying not to settle back into Bruce’s arms and failing.

“As much as I’m enjoying cuddling out here, it’s cold. How about we go back inside, hang out and wait for food?”

Tony nodded, pulling away, trying not to trip over Bruce’s words. Bruce’s hand circled around his bicep, helping him up the wall his back was still leaning against. His knees were wobbly. His exhaustion still clung to his bones. He felt like he would tip right over if another gust of wind came by. Bruce tightened his grip, helping Tony move one step in front of the other as they made their way back to the lab. 

Once inside, Tony walked back to his chair, putting his laptop on the ground beside his notes. Bruce grabbed a seat beside him, leaning back into it and giving Tony a soft smile. He tried to keep the embarrassment at bay, but it was getting increasingly difficult. He was not a weak person. He hated people seeing him this way. He wasn’t the, well, he wasn’t what his father called him. 

“My first panic attack hit when I was eight,” Bruce suddenly said, causing Tony to whip around and face him. “I thought I was dying. My father had just come home, but couldn’t hear me. My mother brought me to the hospital.”

“I don’t usually—”

“I’m sure,” Bruce smiled. “But in the event that you did, you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.” 

“I’m … it doesn’t … ok,” Tony finally agreed sheepishly, trying to force a smile. 

“Do you want to talk about what set it off?”

“No,” Tony answered firmly, going to grab his laptop. He didn’t talk about his feelings. 

“It helps, y’know,” Bruce offered, rolling his chair closer to Tony’s. 

Tony glanced up from his laptop and felt his breath catch in his throat. Bruce was sitting right in front of him, his chin resting on his hands, folded over the back of his chair, looking at Tony with a curious look. He looked positively adorable. Tony felt his heart thump in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him feel  _ so much  _ after such little time. There was no one else. Only Bruce. 

“I don’t know what happened,” Tony lied, glancing back down at his lap. “It’s never happened before.” 

Bruce watched him for a second, and nodded sadly, looking down at his watch. 

“Looks like the food’s here. I’ll go get it really quick,” Bruce said, patting Tony on the arm before walking out of the lab. 

Tony watched him walk away, resisting every urge in his body to whip his laptop across the room in frustration.  _ What the fuck is wrong with me _ , he thought to himself.  _ Why can’t I open up to anybody _ ? He wanted to. Every part of him wanted to tell Bruce what was going on, desperately wanted to let Bruce know what he was feeling and how much it scared him, but if it scared him this badly, he was positive it would drive Bruce away. He couldn’t lose Bruce. Even if it meant dealing with the occasional panic attack and lying about everything.

People don’t stay. They say they do, or they pretend they’ll be around for everything, but they won’t. They go. That’s just how we are as humans. We can’t deal, so we bail. Tony saw it happen too many times before to ever let himself get hurt again by letting someone in. He was safer this way. Even if it meant he was lonelier. Even if it meant he was constantly wearing a facade. At least it was better than the alternative. 

“I know you’ve never tried Indian food, and I am excited for this to blow your mind,” Bruce yelled as he walked back in. “It’s hot, too. Should help your body fully relax.”

Tony smiled at him, a genuine one, and tried to slip the mask back on as quickly as possible. 

“I still don’t think anything compares to chicken fingers and whiskey, but I’m nothing if not generous with my palette.” 

“Food wise or everything,” Bruce asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Tony, who laughed. 

“My not-so-spotless reputation precedes me,” Tony joked, watching as Bruce placed a number of cartons on the desks in between them, and sat with the warm feeling in his chest. 

_ Fuck _ , Tony thought,  _ I am head over heels for this boy _ . 


	4. Chapter 4: No, I don't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend for Tony and Natasha to have a casual thing, but here we are.

“Tones! You missed a fucking rager tonight. We were all waiting on you,” Rhodey yelled from his bedroom as Tony walked through the door. 

He turned to lock the door as he walked into their apartment much later that night, resting his head against the wooden panels, shoulders sagging. Most days Tony had it in him to pretend everything was okay, but tonight he was exhausted. He didn’t want to worry Rhodey. He didn’t want to burden anyone with his problems, but he just didn’t have it in him to put a gigawatt smile on his face and talk about his friends’ drunken escapades. He just wanted to disappear tonight. Maybe not just tonight.   
“You know no one can keep up with you, my man. We were hoping for some classic Tony Stark scandals,” Rhodey continued. 

Tony could feel his shoulders slump even more. He knew Rhodey cared about him. Rhodey was his best friend. He was there through Tony’s worst moments. It didn’t help fight off the feeling that all he was to people was a rich kid with an incredibly high tolerance for alcohol they could party with on any given day. He knew that his friends were there for him, but he never could shake the feeling that his friends didn’t know him. All he wanted was for someone to not see him as Tony Stark, genius extraordinaire and party animal. 

He wanted Bruce. 

He could hear Rhodey’s feet start making their way down the hallway toward the kitchen behind Tony. He turned around, shaking his head, and putting on the most authentic smile he could manage. 

“It sounded like a good time, I’m sorry I missed it,” Tony said, nodding at Rhodey as he came into sight. 

“I almost fought a dude, but Pepper managed to stop me,” Rhodey said, throwing himself into one of the chairs at their kitchen table. “Where did you get up to tonight?”

“I was working on Jarvis in one of the labs with that kid from class yesterday, the one I left with,” Tony said, reaching atop the fridge to grab his bottle of whiskey he noticed was thankfully untouched. 

“Banner?”

“Yeah, that’s him. Brucey-bear. Have you met him before?” Tony asked, trying to sound as impassive about the answer as possible. 

“Nah. He sits a few rows ahead of me, I think. Seems wicked smart though.” 

“Wicked, Rhodey? Really? You’re from Philly. Isn’t it against the rules to use Boston slang?”

“Wicked is not Boston slang.” 

“You’re one wicked away from starring in a Ben Affleck movie and buying a Patriots jersey,” Tony scoffed, pulling up a chair in front of Rhodey, and knocking his whiskey back. 

“First of all, Ben Affleck is a national treasure—”

“Is he though?”

“—yes he is. And second of all, if you ever see me even glance at a Tom Brady jersey, I give you permission to kick my ass.”

“Sweet of you to offer, James, but I don’t need permission to kick your ass,” Tony smirked, looking at his best friend over the rim of his glass. 

“I fucking hate you, man,” Rhodey laughed. “So Banner.”

Tony barely suppressed choking on his drink. “What about him?”

“What’s he like?”

“Uh,” Tony started, scratching the back of his head, and standing up to grab some more whiskey. “He’s cool. He’s wicked smart, as you so eloquently put it. He’s working on this cool top secret science project. He was showing me some of it while we were working. Yeah, he’s super cool, man.”

Rhodey just looked at him for a second, cocking his head to the side. Tony knocked back more of his whiskey, looking at Rhodey, squinting his eyes. 

“What?” Tony asked, sitting back down. 

“‘Cool.’ He’s a cutie too, huh.”

“Excuse me?”

“Banner. He’s not a stunner by any means, but he’s got this tortured genius thing going for him that I get.” 

“He is stunning,” Tony whispered under his breath.

“What was that,” Rhodey said, an obnoxiously big smile on his face. 

“He’s fucking hot, Rhodey. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Oh, this is rich. Tony fucking Stark has a crush!”

“I have an assortment of crushes at any given time, Rhodey. Doesn’t mean I’m interested in sacrificing the chance of sleeping with any of those people by getting into an unfulfilling relationship,” Tony answered, moving the entire bottle of whiskey to the table, foregoing the glass entirely. 

“Nah there’s something different about Banner,” Rhodey said, still smiling and pointing at Tony. “What is it?”

“Is this your way of asking how big is cock is, Rhodey? I haven’t seen it.”

“And when you do, I’ll be just as happy not knowing.”

“I’m not looking to date Bruce,” Tony said, ignoring the tightness in his chest as he said it. “I’d like to see his pretty mouth wrapped around my dick, sure. But I don’t want to date him.”

Rhodey stopped smiling, looking at Tony with something the genius could only describe as pity in his eyes. He nodded, glancing down at Tony’s hand clasped around the bottle of whiskey in front of him. Tony looked around the kitchen, noticing the clock on their stove read 1:30 in the morning. 

“We missed you at the rager tonight, man,” Rhodey said, getting up and pushing the chair in. “Come to the next one. Meet Pepper. Bring Banner.” 

“Yeah,” Tony muttered, watching his best friend walk back to his room.

Picking up the bottle and his bag, Tony made his way to his bedroom, slinking down on the bed and throwing an arm over his head. He reached into his nightstand, taking out a half smoked joint, and fishing around in his jacket pocket for a lighter. He played with the joint between his fingers, lifting it to his lips and inhaling the smell for a second. Light it. Inhale. Hold. Feel it. Exhale. 

Relax. 

“Alexa, can you play some Radiohead?”

“Playing ‘Just’ by Radiohead,” the AI helper sitting in the corner of his room responded. 

“When Jarvis is done, he’s going to be able to respond like an actual person, Alexa. You’ll see,” Tony said, taking another long toke and bopping his head to the music playing. 

Tony sank deeper into his blankets, alternating between drinking from the bottle of whiskey nestled under his arm and inhaling the joint hanging loosely between his lips. He could feel his mind start to get foggier, his muscles started to relax. The weed chilled him out, the alcohol quickly helping him forget the night. The night was quiet, with just the lyrics of the song playing in the room.

‘You do it to yourself, you do. And that’s why it really hurts. You do it to yourself, just you. You and no one else. You do it to yourseeeeeeeeeelf.’

‘I’m such a fucking idiot,’ Tony thought to himself, thinking about his night with Bruce. The other scientist largely left Tony’s panic attack alone through dinner. Instead they talked about their work. Tony had never met someone who could keep up with him, and actually offer valuable insight into his theories, before Bruce. Or someone who was just as enthusiastic about what they were working on. It was infectious. By the time they finished dinner, Tony was shaking with excitement over working on Jarvis. 

They worked together for hours, and Tony soon realized that Bruce would do tiny things to check up on him. He’d ask Tony for help on an equation or to steady a specimen sample, cracking some jokes or inquiring about Jarvis. He kept Tony’s mind off what happened, bringing it back to the present. Tony caught Bruce’s eyes raking over him a few times. He wanted to imagine Bruce was picturing fucking him over one of the desks, something that made Tony shift in his seat a couple of times throughout the night, he knew it was because Bruce wanted to make sure he was okay. He didn’t know how to feel about it. Tony wasn’t used to positive attention in the form of genuine caring from anyone who wasn’t Rhodey. 

At the end of the night, when Bruce was beginning to fall asleep at his desk, Tony offered to give him a ride home. They walked to his car in a comfortable silence, shoulder to shoulder, each feeling the type of indescribable feeling that a night of working on something you truly care about wields. Tony saw Bruce sink into the passenger seat, his head lolling toward the window, eyes barely held open. 

“If you want to pass out, feel free. I just need your address to get you home, Brucey-bear,” Tony said. 

“No, I can stay awake. I want to talk,” Bruce murmured, snuggling even further into the window. Tony couldn’t help but notice how adorable he looked. 

“Always the conversationalist. Remember when I thought you were shy?” 

“I am. I just like you,” Bruce replied.

“Told you you’d fall in love with me,” Tony joked, unable to keep the smile off his face at Bruce’s words. 

“Did you?”

“I thought it at the very least.”

“Naturally,” Bruce slurred, grinning at Tony. 

‘This boy is going to kill me’ Tony thought as they drove, trading quips back and forth. ‘How is he so easy to talk to?’ 

“Hey Tony?” Bruce asked sleepily. 

“Yeah, Brucey?”

“I’m glad you came and worked with me tonight.”

“Me too, buddy,” Tony said, thankful his brain went with “buddy” and not the “baby” sitting on his tongue. 

“I don’t want to push it, I know we just became friends, but do you want to hang out tomorrow night?”

“Three nights with the same man would be a new record for me, but for you Brucey, absolutely,” Tony said, making sure to smile extra big at Bruce so the other man knew he was joking. “It’s Saturday. I usually hang out with my friends. You can either hang with us or we can do our own thing.” 

“Oh, no. I don’t want to take you away from your friends. I don’t want to bother you—”

“You’re never going to be a bother, Bruce,” Tony interrupted. “I would rather hang out with you anyway.”

“Yeah?” Bruce asked, his voice suddenly tiny. 

“Yeah buddy. Have you gone to the planetarium?”

“Once in freshman year as part of a group outing, but never with the right people,” Bruce answered, pointing out his apartment to Tony. “This is me.” 

“And I’m the right people?”

“You’re shaping up to be.” 

Tony inhaled softly, and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. It was both incredible and disturbing how much those five words did for him. He wanted to be the right type of people for Bruce. He wanted to be the perfect person for him. 

“Let’s get dinner first, my treat. Ever been to Sonny’s?”

“No.”

“You’re going to love it, Brucey. Meet me there at 8. We’ll grab food and then look up at the dumb awesome stars.” 

“Sounds good. 8 at Sonny’s. It’s a date, bud,” Bruce said, getting out of the car, waving to Tony as he walked up to his apartment building. 

‘Bruce.’

\-----

That’s how Tony found himself lying on his bed, now in a perfect combined state of incredibly drunk and high, his mind focused on just one thing: Bruce Banner. Another glance at the clock. Three am. Sighing, Tony forced himself to get out of the cocoon and grab his laptop. There was no use in trying to sleep. The best Tony could hope for is transferring his inebriated brain’s attention to coding instead of getting anxious over Bruce. Eventually his body would just give up. He always got an hour or two of sleep a night — well, he always only got an hour or two of sleep a night. Even with the weed and whiskey. 

He woke up at seven am, cradling his laptop, a cold joint resting on his chest. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he could feel the hangover creep in and cursed himself for not having another joint ready to go to stave it off. Instead he picked up the whiskey bottle that fell on the floor at some point in the middle of the night, and took a quick gulp. Hair of the dog wasn’t perfect, but it worked. 

Scratching his head, he got out of bed, making his way to the bathroom on the other side of their apartment. He felt gross. Not enough to puke, but enough that he wanted to lay down for a couple of hours and just watch Star Wars movies. He could usually force himself to leave the apartment and just smoke away the hangover, but it was Saturday. He was going to afford himself the luxury of being a total piece of shit. 

“You look like ass.”

“Jesus fucking Christ you shared the crap out of me, Nat,” Tony yelled, grabbing his chest and looking at the red haired woman sitting on his couch, looking smug.

“That was the intention.” 

“You do remember I have a heart condition.” 

“You had a heart condition. Then you got a new heart. And now you don’t,” Natasha said coolly, watching him pad over to her on the couch.

Tony whined, flopping down on one end, laying his head down on her lap. He sighed contently as she reached down and started threading her fingers through his untamed hair. He closed his eyes, and just lay there for a second, basking in his best friend’s care. 

“I could still die, Nat.”

“We could all die, malishka,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead. 

“Yeah,” he replied, looking up at her face and smiling. “What are you doing here anyway? I gave Barton keys in case of an emergency.”

“I haven’t seen you in seven days.”

“Aw, Nat,” he teased, turning slightly so he could see her better. “Did you miss me?”

“No, you moron,” she replied, pulling on his hair slightly just the way he liked it. He let a little moan escape. “I’m horny.” 

Tony felt his dick stir, moving his eyes down from her face to her tits. No bra, he noticed. He bit his lower lip, looking back up at her. Natasha was his favorite friend with benefits. They started out purely fucking. Natasha was a natural dominant. She was the only one who could give Tony exactly what he needed, when he needed it. She got him out of his head. He felt safe with her. He thought for a while they should try dating, but the more they hung out, the more he realized they wouldn’t work. Their damage ran parallel. They would have just fucked each other up more if they were exclusive. He would have ruined her, or she would have ruined him. 

He lifted himself off, and turned, bringing her petite body underneath his, grinding down on top of her as he went to kiss a sensitive spot behind her ear. No, both Tony and Natasha realized very quickly they were never going to be each other’s one and only. It used to make him sad, because he loved Natasha with his entire heart, but Tony knew he wasn’t in love with Natasha. She wasn’t in love with him, either. They mutually used each other when the other person needed it, but their friendship went far beyond getting off. Orgasms were just an added benefit. 

“What do you need today?” he whispered in her ear, smirking when he felt her shiver underneath him. 

“Fast and hard. Do exactly what I say, моя любовь,” she growled, nipping at his collarbone, and pulling his hair again, knowing how much her use of Russian went straight to his dick. 

“Fuck, Nat,” he stuttered, feeling his cock harden in his pants, not even trying to stop himself from grinding down, looking for any kind of friction. 

He put his hands under her ass, gripping as hard as he could, and moving them in one fell swoop so she was sitting on his lap. He pulled her hips down, thrusting up slightly so she could feel just how hard he was. His hands roamed up the back of her shirt, dragging his fingernails across her skin, relishing in the feeling of her shivering on top of him. 

Tony started to breathe faster and harder, panting as Natasha started grinding their hips together, his dick straining and hot trapped between his boxers and her jeans. She brought one of her hands to his neck, exerting just the slightest bit of pressure, the way he liked. Natasha watched his pupils dilate, tossing her hair back and using her other hand to grab Tony’s, placing it on top of her jean buttons, helping him unbutton it. 

“Rhodey,” Tony managed to squeak out, his eyes rolling as Natasha applied more pressure to his throat. 

“He’s out on a day trip thing with his reserve buddies, don’t worry,” she answered, lifting off Tony slightly as he pulled the zipper on her jeans down. 

Tony moved to pull his own boxers down, unable to ignore his dick any longer, but Natasha grabbed both his hands and held them above his head. He looked up at her, leaning forward just the slightest to bite at the nipples poking through her tank top. She gasped, rocking her hips against his, before serving him a stern look. 

“What did I say, malishka? You play by my rules. No touching right now.”

“I need to touch you, Nat,” he whispered, squirming underneath her. 

“I know you do. That’s why you can’t.”

“Please.”

“Are you going to beg for me, malishka?” she asked, holding both his wrists in one hand, using the other to roughly pull his hair, laughing at the groan that escaped Tony’s mouth.

“I will. Please, you know I will.” 

“Mmm,” she hummed contemplatively, slowly lowering herself down his body. “Not yet. Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you, baby?”

He nodded, moving his hands to cup her face as she kneeled down in front of him. 

“I’m going to suck you until you’re close enough to cum, and then you’re going to fuck me as hard as you can.” 

He gripped her hair tight, nodding enthusiastically as she pulled his boxers down. His cock sprang up, and she grabbed the base, dropping a string of saliva along his length, and slowly running her hand up and down. She looked up at him, watching as his Tony through his head back, thrusting slightly into her hand. 

“‘Tasha please,” he grunted.

“Please what, Tony?”

“Your mouth.”

“My mouth, what?” she asked, pulling roughly on his erection, watching him hiss, half in pain, half in pleasure. 

“Need your mouth on my cock, please. Need to see your lips wrapped around me.”

“You’re lucky I’ve been thinking of sucking your dick for the last week,” she said, gliding her hand down to the bottom of his erection, and swallowing him whole. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, wrapping his hands in her hair, and moving her head up and down his cock, feeling only a little bit guilty that he imagined Bruce’s curls instead.

There were few people he’d been with, men or women, who could give head as amazing as Natasha. Her silver tongue talents transferred to the bedroom. The little sucking sounds she made as she worked him over only turned him on more. He felt swollen and heavy in her mouth, hot and pulsating. She ran her tongue alongside the vein that run on the underside of his dick, sending tingles up and down his body, before deep throating him whole. 

He didn’t know how much more he could take. Tony wanted to cum. He was so desperate. He closed his eyes, picturing Bruce in Natasha’s position, thinking of thrusting into Bruce’s mouth. It was too much. He could feel the warmth in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to make Natasha mad, but at this rate he was going to bust before he got the chance to—

“OW,” he yelled, looking down as Natasha clamped her hand at the base of his shaft. 

“You’re about to cum. I didn’t say that’s how you were going to finish. Don’t disobey me, моя любовь,” she hissed, standing up and taking off her pants and underwear in one action. “Fuck me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He picked her up, walking towards his room as her legs wrapped around his naked waist. Once he kicked the door shut, he tossed her on his bed, moving his fingers toward her folds. He managed to run the pad of his thumb over her clit, enjoying watching the usually composed Russian squirm in bed, before she grabbed his hand again. 

“What?” he asked, looking up at her.

“Obey me. I told you what I wanted outside.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she smirked, grabbing his hips and bringing him down on top of her. “Fuck me, Tony.”

He didn’t need any more convincing. He lined himself up, pushing in slowly, hanging his head and moaning as he felt her warm heat envelop him. He bottomed out, and looked at her, making sure she was okay. All Natasha did in response was grab his hair, and pull. That’s all it took. Tony started thrusting as hard and deep as he could. Lifting himself up to angle better, listening to Natasha moan beneath him. 

‘Don’t say Bruce’s name, don’t say Bruce’s name,’ he thought to himself, biting his lip as hard as he could. Tony felt the warmth at the bottom of his stomach heat up. He reached down between him and Nat, finding her clit and rubbing it as he thrusted. He watched her come undone, convinced she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever met. She tightened around him, and he choked out what sounded like a sob.

“Nat, I’m close.”

“I know, baby, me too. Let go. Cum for me.”

He thrusted even harder than he thought possible, entering her a few more times before crying out as his orgasm hit. He felt her cum around him just a few moments later, both of them panting as Tony gently pulled out of her and rolled over. They were quiet for a second, looking up at the ceiling of his room. No one made a move to cuddle. That wasn’t what they are. It’s not what they would be. 

Bruce. Fuck.

“You want a drink?”

“It’s not even nine in the morning,” Natasha replied, raising an eyebrow at Tony.

“Oh. Right.”

“You usually don’t start drinking until noon.”  
“I’ve always been an overachiever,” he joked, turning around to look at her, still nude from the waist down. “Do you want a pair of boxers or something?”

“Sure,” she replied, catching a pair of black ones he tossed at her head, watching as he pulled on a pair of grey ones in the process. 

“I’ll be right back,” he coughed out, jogging down the hall to grab a glass, popping some ice from a tray to make his drink with, stopping to pick up their discarded clothes still in the living room on his way back. 

“Do you mind?” he asked, nodding toward the bottle of whiskey sitting on the nightstand table. 

“No,” she answered softly, bringing her knees up to her chest. She rested her head on the top of her knees, watching as he made himself a drink, bringing the glass up to his lips to take a small sip. 

“Hair of the dog,” he explained, trying to give her one of his classic Tony Stark smirks. 

“Big night? You weren’t at the party last night.” 

“You were? You don’t usually go to parties.” 

“Clint wanted me to meet this boy he’s interested in,” Natasha murmured, eyes following the path of Tony’s glass of whiskey from his hands to his lips.

“Barnes? I want to meet Barnes,” he whined, knocking back his drink. 

“He seemed a little uptight, but nice. Perfect for Clint. Where were you?”

“I was working on a project with this kid from one of my classes,” he said, pouring another glass. “Why does it matter?”

“Not like you to miss a party. Must be someone special.”

“I’ve missed parties before to work,” Tony replied sharply.

“By yourself. Never with someone else.”

“Well—”

“Actually, I’ve never seen you work with anyone. You like to work alone. So. Who’s this kid?”

He hated how well Natasha knew him. But he also relished in it. She, Clint, and Rhodey knew him better than anyone. These moments reminded him that his friends really cared. They weren’t just using him for a ride to the top. He had friends in the past, not to mention Justin, who wanted him because of what he was going to inherit. Stark Industries. He hated it. He wanted to give it to Obidiah, but his father made him promise never to hand it over to Obi. He almost wanted to do it just to spite Howard, but as much as he hated his father, he still wanted his approval more than anything in the world.

“His name’s Bruce,” Tony finally answered, looking up at Natasha finally. 

“And you like this Bruce?”

“No,” he rushed out. “I don’t know. No. I don’t do liking.”

“You like me,” she responded moving over to wrap his arms around his chest. 

“Because I know this can’t really go anywhere,” he responded, hugging her arms close to him. “Don’t get me wrong—”

“I get it, malishka,” she reassured, kissing the inside of his neck. 

“I don’t date,” he barked out. “I’m not going to break that rule just because this stupidly sexy boy who can talk to me like a person who understands what I’m saying and is the most brilliant person I’ve ever met and who seems like he’s just the right amount of fucked up and who I can’t stop thinking about suddenly came around.”

“Tony,” Natasha whispered, looping herself around him to sit in his lap, lifting his chin with her finger as he circled his arms around her waist, eyes softening as she caught the brief look of sadness on his face before he pulled the mask back on. “You deserve to be happy.”

“I am happy,” he lied.

“No, baby, you’re not,” she said, giving him a gentle kiss. 

He kissed her back, melting into it. He fell into the feeling of being wanted, of being loved. He just wished it was someone he was in love with instead of his best friend. Tony loved Nat, but she was never going to fill the hole. No one could. That’s too much pressure to put on someone. But the closest he felt to being totally understood was with Bruce. Bruce didn’t even know Tony, but Tony felt like Bruce saw through him. He just saw Tony. Maybe. How would Tony know? He’d never been in a healthy relationship. 

“You’re thinking about Justin,” she murmured against his lips. 

“No I’m not,” he murmured back, nipping at her bottom lip.

“I want to kill him.”

“You don’t even know him, Widow,” he whispered jokingly, using the nickname he and Clint came up with after seeing what she would do to people who insulted her friends. Natasha was deadly when angry, like a black widow. 

“I know some things,” she replied, swatting at one of Tony’s hands that began playing with her nipple. 

“Are we not going for round two?” he asked, openly staring at her boobs. 

“No. I have to get ready for a date,” she replied, getting off Tony and ruffling his hair. 

“A date? After you just fucked me?”

“Don’t look so incredulous. You fucked Clint one night and then fucked me less than two hours later.”

“Correction: Clint fucked me that night, and then I fucked you,” he answered dreamily. “I do miss Barton’s dick from time to time.”

“Don’t we all.”

“So wait,” Tony said, leaning on his elbows and watching Natasha change back into her clothes. “Who’s the guy?”

“Rogers.”

“STEVE?” Tony yelled, lifting himself up right. 

“He asked. I like him. Why not,” she responded, giving Tony a look that suggested if he tried to make a joke, she would harm him. 

“Huh. Good for you, Nat. I hope Rogers’ dick is as beautiful and big as those biceps.”

“Me and you both, моя любовь,” she whispered, giving him a soft kiss. “I’m going to go home and shower. You should also shower. And stop drinking. I don’t want you to die before I’m done with you.”

“I’ll try not to,” he called, listening to her walk away. 

Once he heard the door close and lock, he lay back down, staring up at the ceiling, basking in the afterglow of an extremely good orgasm. He didn’t have anything to do for the rest of the day, but he was itching to get back into the lab at school and continue working on Jarvis. He could shower, go work, and come back with enough time to get ready before meeting up with Bruce later. A phone vibration caught his attention and he turned to grab it, dramatically bringing it into his line of vision.

“Saw this new study on AI and its practical uses imagined by a futurist I really love. Thought you might get a kick out of it,” the text from Bruce read. “Excited to hang tonight and talk science. BBear.”

“BBear,” Tony muttered to himself, feeling the smile grow despite his best intentions to stop it. “Alright BBear, today’s going to be a good day.


	5. "Yeah?"

Sonny’s was just the right amount of dim when Tony pulled up that evening. Perfection. Hardly any lights outside, but the tiny flicker of candles could be seen through the smoky glass windows. Totally unnoticeable. Nothing ostentatious about it. Tony started going to Sonny’s in his freshman year because it looked like the type of place his father would have hated. So naturally, he loved it. 

He cast a quick glance at the rearview mirror, taking in his appearance. Mussed up hair, leather jacket, tight black jeans, Metallica shirt, all tucked into a pair of black combat boots. He may have an array of insecurities but Tony knew he was hot. His dad was handsome, and his mom was a stone cold fox. He inherited her face, and got his dad’s bone structure. Thankfully, he inherited his mom’s personality, too. Tony shook his head as thoughts of Howard flashed by. He wasn’t going to be in a sour mood with Bruce. His dad didn’t get to have that much control over Tony’s life. 

Shivering in the cold Massachusetts night, he jogged to the door, eyes adjusting to the dark room inside. Nothing had changed since he’d visited Sonny’s last. Most of the tables were taken, but he noticed a few empty toward the back. A curly mop of hair sat in one of the booths, and he grinned, pretty sure it was Bruce. Letting a small shiver run through his body, he made his way over, not stopping to think about whether it was from the cold or his nervousness. Tony could make out Bruce’s hoodie as he got closer, noticing the way the other boy’s leg bounced up and down. Maybe I’m not the only one feeling nervous, he thought.

“Nothing spectacular was ever born out of practically,” Tony announced, sliding into the seat across from Bruce, grinning as he watched the other scientist jump slightly. “Only the most impractical ideas are worth pursuing.”

“Um…”

“Yes?”

“What are you talking about?” Bruce asked, doing the adorable awkward thing he did, rubbing a hand up and down the back of his neck.

“Practical uses of AI by futurists I adore,” Tony answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“What are you...oh! You read it?” Bruce asked, elated.

God, he’s so fucking cute. “I did, Brucey-bear. It was good.”

“But not good enough?”

“I just hate conventionality.”

“How so?” Bruce asked, flicking his eyes between Tony’s face and the waiter who was walking up and down the aisles. 

“Conventionality is what is. Conventionality is what makes sense to be. Fuck conventionality. It’s—”

“Pedestrian?” Bruce supplied, ducking his head a little and smiling. 

“Yeah,” Tony exhaled, smiling shyly at Bruce. “Pedestrian.” 

“So this is your spot?”

“It’s no MacCluskey’s, but they do make the best veal parm in the world.”

“I’m not a big veal parm person,” Bruce said,, playing the with the corners of his napkin, looking down at his hands.

“Fine. Fine, fine, fine. Let’s share a big ol’ pie. I haven’t had pizza in forever.”

“Sure, Tony, just make sure it’s extra cheesy” Bruce chuckled, tilting his head back, his eyes never leaving Tony’s face. 

Tony still couldn’t quite believe how much Bruce — just Bruce — did for him. He was exquisite. He was poetry in motion. Bruce was guarded, Tony could tell, but just being there with him right now, Tony felt at peace. Maybe this is what all those dumb movies meant about love at first sight. Maybe this was how you were supposed to know who “the one” is all along. It’s just a feeling of being totally at peace with the one person who makes you feel that way. Maybe Bruce could save Tony. God, Bruce was going to break his fucking heart. 

I need a drink. 

“I’m going to go and grab something from the bar. Do you want anything? Even a water?” Tony asked, sliding out of the booth. 

“A Coke would be great. Unless they have Pepsi. Pepsi is perfect, but most places carry Coke.”

“Pepsi?” Tony asked, feigning disgust. “I didn’t realize that I was out with a Pepsi stan.”

“Does that ruin how you see me?” Bruce quipped.

“Never,” Tony answered, working extra hard to keep the sincerity out of his voice. 

He didn’t miss the way Bruce’s look softened hearing his words. It was becoming too much for him. Tony just needed to sip on a glass of whiskey, feel the coldness of the ice dab his upper lip, while the amber liquid burned its way down his chest. Then he could watch Bruce soften his gaze, watch him look at Tony as if Tony was someone that he cared about, as if Tony was someone Bruce could one day love. People didn’t love Tony. He wasn’t going to let himself get vulnerable with anyone ever again. He would take what Bruce gave him, but he wouldn’t put himself in a position where he’d get hurt. Not again. Never again. 

“Look who the fucking cat dragged in.” 

Tony laughed, sliding into a seat at the bar, sharing a quick handshake with the man behind it. Hank Pym was an old war vet who began working at Sonny’s when the bar first opened. He was a staple in the place. Hank hated Tony when he first started frequenting Sonny’s, annoyed by his “smart-ass comments” and “inability to act like an actual adult.” But over time, they came to respect one another. It was when Tony learned that Hank knew his dad from the war, and hated him just as much, that Tony and Hank really became friends. 

“I was just here last week.”

“You used to be here every damn night,” Hank barked back, going to reach for the bottle of Maker’s Mark. “Usual?”

“Yeah,” Tony answered, trying to bite back the feeling of guilt that washed over him. “Top it up. And then let me get a Pepsi if you have it.” 

“Pepsi? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Or Coke. I don’t care. But Pepsi is preferred,” Tony bit back, watching Pym pour the amber liquid over the ice cubes sitting at the bottom of the glass. 

“I didn’t realize you drank soda.” 

“It’s not for me.”

“It’s not like you to keep whatever hot date you have sitting down at a table somewhere,” Hank pointed out, handing the glass over to Tony and taking out a taller one, lifting the soda spray nozzle. “What’s wrong with her?”

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” Tony bit out through gritted teeth. “And it’s not a date.”

“You don’t bring friends here,” Hank said, leveling Tony with a stare that said, ‘Don’t play dumb with me.’

“Maybe I just want more people to meet my favorite bartender, Pymmy,” Tony said sweetly. “Why should I be the only one who gets to hang out with Boston’s cuddliest man?”

“Mmhmm,” Hank hummed, handing the glass over and leaning on the bartop. “If that were true, you’d be sitting up here with me like you usually do.” 

“Gotta get him warmed up for you, Pymmy. He’s a new friend. Don’t want the big-mean-scary-bartender-who’s-secretly-a-teddy-bear terrify him away just yet,” Tony joked, trying not to let his minor panic show through. 

Hank gave him a look, shaking his head, but turning around to unbox some bottles of wine. Tony grabbed his drinks, making his way back to Bruce. Shit, I forgot to ask what this was, he thought, watching the soda slosh around the glass. He took a sip from his whiskey, relishing in the taste, the feeling of it moving down his throat, and hitting his empty stomach, the feeling of instant warmth that radiated throughout him. I fucking love this drink.

“Sorry for the wait, Hank’s a good bartender but such a chatter,” Tony announced, sliding Bruce’s drink over.

“You were gone for 45 seconds.”

“Well it felt like ages being away from you Brucey-bear,” Tony replied as sickeningly sweet as possible. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Bruce laughed, but going a little red while taking a sip of his drink. “Ah.”

“Not Pepsi?”

“It never is.”

“Want me to go beat up Hank for you?”

“Are you always so much of a knight in shining armour?”

“I’ve just always wanted a reason to fight Hank,” Tony answered easily. “But yes. I am also always a knight in shining armor.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Bruce laughed. “How did you find this place anyway? It’s not exactly near school.”

“I’m from New York.”

“Okay,” Bruce rolled out, raising an eyebrow. 

“I love Italian food. Do you know how hard it is to find good Italian food in Cambridge?”

“Very?”

“I can solve a global energy crisis, probably, and yet I can’t get a good Italian place to open closer to where I live,” he complained, throwing his arm dramatically over his eyes. “The life of a genius is an involuntarily carb-free one.” 

“We all have to make sacrifices,” Bruce said, patting Tony’s hand on the table, letting it rest there for a second.

Tony looked down, using every ounce of his willpower not to jump at the contact. Bruce’s hand was warm. It felt so right sitting on his. Just the right amount of pressure. No ounce of sweat. His palm was smooth. Tony wanted to turn it over, hold it in his own palm, squeeze it gently. He was trying not to read into the gesture. Tons of friends put their hands on each other’s. It was a comfort thing. Tony knew this. So why did it feel like someone dropped a 1,000 pound anvil in his stomach?

“But I’m Tony Stark,” he whined, not moving an inch in case Bruce took his hand back. 

“Sacrificing is pedestrian, I assume?”

“See Brucey, you do understand me,” he said, his words muffled by his arm. 

“I don’t think anyone does,” Bruce replied, squeezing Tony’s hand before bringing it back to his side. 

Tony let his arm fall, looking at Bruce, not saying anything. He was studying the other man’s face, trying to look for any clue signaling what he was thinking. Bruce was a blank canvas. An adorable, crooked little smile hid a notebook full of secrets, Tony thought. Maybe Bruce was hiding just as much from Tony as he was hiding from Bruce. Just thinking about it made Tony want to open up to Bruce, find someone who understood what it was like. Instead, he just took another gulp of his whiskey. 

“How’s your project going?” 

“I think I’ve stumbled upon something really fascinating, actually!”

“Oh?” Tony asked, smirking at the other man’s palpable excitement. 

“I was just in the lab before I came over here actually,” Bruce admitted sheepishly. 

“A man after my own heart. You had my curiosity. Now you have my attention.”

“Did you just quote Tarantino?”

“That’s neither here nor there, tell me about this development,” Tony said, laughing alongside Bruce.

Conversation flowed easily during dinner. Tony ordered them a pizza — one far too big to split between the two of them — but he was hoping Bruce would eat. The man was too skinny, Tony noticed during their time together. They laughed, they bickered, and Tony would even venture to say they flirted. Or, he’d think it at least. Tony couldn’t remember the last date he’d been on that he enjoyed as much. Even if the date was completely one-sided in his mind. 

Tony also couldn’t help but notice every adorable thing Bruce did over the course of dinner. Getting sauce all over his face, only to wipe it off in embarrassment whenever Tony brought it up; his habit of rolling a piece of pizza in half; his little hand movements whenever he was in the middle of an argument and knew he was right. Tony found it all endearing. He could stare at Bruce just be Bruce all night, he thought. 

Paying the check, Tony soon learned, was going to be an awkward moment in their friendship. Bruce didn’t come from money and, based on the same outfit he wore day in and day out, Tony assumed he didn’t have much of his own either. Tony, on the other hand, had too much money. Or his parents did. He hated being a symbol of global wealth. He loved having things, but he wasn’t materialistic. He tried not to be, at least. If he could pay for his friends meals and help them out along the way, he was more than happy. 

Bruce saw it as charity. He was a proud man, Tony quickly realized. Would rather watch the credit card machine, anxiously tapping his foot as he waited for the “approved” sign to flash, visibly relaxing after the fact. Tony wanted to treat Bruce. He wanted to treat him as his date, but if that’s not what Bruce wanted, he wouldn’t push. Tony was just happy to hang out with him. 

“Do you watch BoJack?” Bruce asked as Tony settled up the bill, anxiously playing with the fraying part of his sleeves again. 

“The Netflix show?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t say I have. I don’t watch a lot of TV,” Tony answered, setting his card down on the bill, pushing it to the side of the table so their waiter would see it. 

“How do you unwind?”

“A different type of vice,” Tony answered, looking anywhere but at Bruce. 

“TV is a vice?”

“Oh don’t you know Brucey, TV will rot your pretty little brain,” he said, smirking. “Too much of anything is a vice. Excess is a vice.” 

“Does that include wealth?”

Tony looked at Bruce, trying to see if he meant it as a dig against Tony’s family. Not that he would blame Bruce. He couldn’t blame anyone for hating his family. Billionaires weren’t fashionable. He’s not sure they ever were. Billionaires who made their money designing, manufacturing, and selling weapons to the US army to be used on innocent people in the Middle East? Even less so. But Bruce didn’t mean it as a jab. He looked at Tony with pure curiosity, trying to understand the neurotic scientist sitting across from him a little better. He wasn’t trying to make Tony feel bad. Turns out Tony could do that perfectly fine on his own. 

“Wealth is at the top of that list,” Tony answered sincerely. 

“It seems like a burden. A nice burden, but full of expectations that don’t come with being poor.” 

“It’s hard to feel bad about having money when most people don’t,” Tony replied, nodding his head at the waiter who took his card. “I’d gladly give most of it away if I had any control over it.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Bruce answered, reaching over and squeezing Tony’s hand again. “You’re a good man, Tony Stark.” 

This time he wasted no time in squeezing back, looking at Bruce as he did so. The other boy softened, and made no move to take his hand back. Tony never wanted to let it go. Fuck it, he thought, running his thumb along the back of Bruce’s hand, seeing what Bruce would do. He could feel sweat building at the base of his neck as he waited. But when Bruce finally ran his thumb along Tony’s hand, too, he nearly squealed with joy. Starks don’t squeal, though. He settled for a megawatt grin instead. 

“Yeah?” Tony asked hesitantly. 

“Yeah,” Bruce whispered, looking at their hands. “I think so.” 

“I didn’t know you were into dudes,” Tony confessed, tightening his grip on Bruce’s hand, pleased when he did the same. 

“I like both men and women,” Bruce answered. “But I usually gravitate toward men.” 

“Two peas in a pod we are,” Tony joked. “I’m very much the same. My last serious thing, he...well anyway, tell me about this Netflix show.” 

He didn’t miss the look Bruce gave him as he quickly changed topics. It didn’t matter. Dealing with a confused look was a lot easier than bringing up Justin, thinking about Justin, remembering Justin. Especially now, while he was out here on a real date with Bruce, holding hands with the boy he couldn’t deny he wanted to date any longer. Tony wanted tonight to just be about Bruce. 

“It’s this show about anthropomorphic animals living in this satirical version of Hollywood. It’s a satire about the entertainment industry, but it’s also this really poignant series about mental health and addiction and toxic masculinity,” Bruce explained. 

“Oh,” Tony replied, casting a quick glance at the empty glass of whiskey in his hand, trying to bat away the negging sensation he’s had since he downed the last bit that he wanted more. “What made you think of it?”

“There’s an episode where the main character, BoJack, is on this drug induced binge with this girl, Sarah Lynn,” Bruce explains, still running his thumb along Tony’s hand. “And y’know, it’s really hard because BoJack is the reason Sarah Lynn is back on this binge and … anyway, they end up at a planetarium at the peak of this episode. He’s talking to her about how nothing matters in the grand scheme of things because the universe is infinite and the beauty of our lives is that it’s finite. We’re finite.”

“Fuck,” Tony replied, wishing even more for another glass of whiskey. 

“Sorry, I know it’s intense,” Bruce said, suddenly self-conscious, moving to pull his hand back.

“No!,” Tony practically yelled, grabbing his hand back. “It’s not bad. I like intense. It’s just...this is a satire about Hollywood starring anthropomorphic animals?”

“Yeah, it’s a really weird show,” Bruce acknowledged, squeezing Tony’s hand, shooting him a grateful smile. “But the planetarium episode ends with Sarah Lynn dying. She’s...she’s this person you really want to root for, and there’s this moment where she’s looking up at the stars and she says she wanted to be an architect, but everything in her life went wrong despite living the life that everyone thinks they want.”

“That’s really fucking heavy.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Bruce said, waiting as the waiter dropped off Tony’s card. “I just haven’t been to a planetarium since freshman year or when that episode came out. I guess it’s just something that popped into my head. I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” Tony asked, signing the bill with one hand, trying to comfort Bruce with the other. 

“We’re having a really nice date and I just ruined it by being me,” Bruce said, not looking at Tony. “I always fuck things up.”

“I happen to like you a whole lot, Brucey,” Tony said, not bothering to hide the sincerity in his voice. “There’s literally not much you could do to fuck this up. And I sincerely doubt there’s much you could do to fuck things up in life in general. Doesn’t seem your speed.”

“We’ll see,” Bruce muttered, but smiled softly nonetheless.

“Do you still want to go to the planetarium? We can go do something else. Head back to my apartment to chill, hit up a bar,” he asked nonchalantly, secretly hoping Bruce would be okay going to a bar.

“No, no I still want to go,” Bruce said shyly. “I want to go with you.” 

This fucking boy. 

“I want to go with you too, Brucey,” Tony said, flashing him a grin. “Let’s get out of here.” 

They put their jackets on, walking through the restaurant, excited to continue their date. Tony gave Hank a mock salute goodbye, rolling his eyes as Pym flashed him a thumbs up in Bruce’s direction. Men, Tony thought. They walked out into the cold air, Tony taking a cigarette the pack sitting in his jacket pocket. 

“Mind if I have one really quick?” Tony asked, nodding as Bruce shook his head. 

“When did you start smoking?”

“Uh...I think I was 14? My dad used to smoke cigars and I hated the smell. Him and Obie, his second in command, and all their pals would just sit around and smoke cigars. But never cigarettes. My dad fucking hated cigarettes. They were too, too—”

“Pedestrian?”

“Probably,” Tony laughed, reaching out to Bruce who was shivering, and wrapping an arm around him, chest filling with warmth as Bruce snuggled into his side. “He hated cigarettes, and I wanted to piss him off, so I started smoking them. Teenage rebellion. How cliche. But they chilled me out more than anything else, so I just kept smoking. Now they help me clear my head.”

“They do or the fresh air does?”

“Both, probably,” Tony agreed, looking down at Bruce.

“It’ll kill you,” Bruce said, intertwining their fingers. 

“Something will for sure.”

“Tony.” 

“The surgeon general tells me it’s bad for my health. Even worse for pregnant women. I hear him, Bruce,” Tony said, taking a final drag on his cigarette and tossing the butt. “I promise to eat a mint before trying to make out with you.” 

“You have them in your car?” Bruce asked, sliding off the hood. 

“What?”

“Those mints — they’re in your car?”

“Uh, no?” Tony said, looking at Bruce quizzically. 

“Shame. Guess we can’t make out in your car,” Bruce said, opening the door and sliding in, grinning sheepishly. 

“Why the fuck are there no convenience stores around here,” Tony yelled, hearing Bruce laugh as he closed the door. 

The drive to the planetarium was easy. Bruce and Tony kept their hands linked the entire time, trading big smiles and adoring glances, talking about anything and everything. Time seemed infinite. There was only Tony and Bruce, driving through the empty Cambridge streets, making their way up the hill that would take them to the planetarium. Tony was beginning to feel nervous again as Bruce talked about his experiment, realizing just what tonight meant for them.

Tony’s mind just wouldn’t let him rest easy for long. His tranquility started to ebb as he thought about letting Bruce in. He didn’t want to disappoint the man who had become a very important part of his life in an extremely short amount of time, but he knew he would. Tony wasn’t going to give up parts of his life for anyone. The idea of not drinking or not smoking sent him into a near panic attack. He knew Bruce would hate Tony if he really got to know his vices that also made up his personality. He could only hide it for so long. 

He thought about how long he could get away with being with Bruce, enjoy holding hands with the boy next to him, excited talking about science, before he screwed it all up. Tony knew he would. Bruce might think he constantly fucks things up, but Tony knows he does. There’s no cure for being a total shithead. 

“Looks like it’s not too busy tonight,” Tony remarked as they pulled into the driveway, trying to get out of his head. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you rented the entire place out,” Bruce joked. 

“I thought about it for a split second, but didn’t want to be totally obnoxious on our first date.” 

“It wasn’t a first date when it started, was it?” Bruce asked, amused. 

“I figured I could persuade you into at least one date with me. No one says no to Tony Stark,” he answered easily, laughing as Bruce shook his head. 

“We’ll see about that,” Bruce said, getting out of the car with Tony and walking toward the planetarium doors. 

Bruce made them go double dutch on tickets despite Tony’s attempts to pay for the entire date. He didn’t want to ruin Bruce’s evening so he went along with it, ready to explore the building with him. Tony didn’t know how cool Bruce was with being open about their date, so he didn’t move to hold his hand, settling for walking shoulder to shoulder with the boy, sneaking glances at Bruce’s face, lit up by the light of whatever exhibit they stepped in front of. 

They both tried to out science the other, listing off facts about whatever they were looking at, pulling from their own obsessive minds. By the time they were on their fourth or fifth exhibit, a small group had begun following them, listening to their own banter. Tony kept an eye on Bruce, making sure his anxiety didn’t peak thanks to the crowd following their steps around the building. He didn’t even seem to notice, so lost in whatever he was looking at in the moment. Tony noticed Bruce would sometimes take out a small notebook and scribble down a quick note, which he assumed Bruce would take back to the lab and try to work into his own equations. 

This fucking boy, Tony thought for about the thousandth time that night, smiling like a certified idiot. 

It was late by the time Bruce and Tony pulled up outside the theater. Bruce didn’t want to skip any of the museum stops, and Tony was more than happy to follow along. It did mean they were catching the last show of the night, and the planetarium staff were clearly unimpressed that a couple of dorks were going to make them stay right until close just to catch a glimpse of the stars. 

Neither of them cared. Bruce and Tony filed into the theater, taking their seats right underneath the giant dome, reclining in their seats and staring up at the sky above them. It was a clear night, and the projection of the night sky on the dome always caught Tony’s breath. Space was undeniably beautiful. The little gasp Tony heard beside him made him think Bruce felt the same way. Here, in the dark theater, where it was just Tony, Bruce, and the stars above, he risked reaching over and intertwining his fingers with Bruce’s again. 

Bruce whipped his head to look at Tony, crushing their hands together, rubbing his thumb alongside the bottom of Tony’s hand. Tony felt his breath catch. Right now, with the starry night shining down on Bruce’s face, his hair askew under the beanie he always wore, his freckles dancing over his cheeks, and that gigantic smile, Tony was sure he’d never seen anything as beautiful. It made him want to lean over and, just for a second, see how soft those lips were. 

No one ever credited Tony Stark with good impulse control. 

“Tony…,” Bruce sighed, as Tony’s lips found his in the dark. 

It was soft, barely a touch, as Tony silently asked if this was okay. He didn’t want to rush anything. He wasn’t sure how comfortable Bruce was with physical affection, and didn’t want him to feel pressured into kissing Tony. He was ready to move back, and go back to hand holding, when Bruce finally started kissing back, shifting in his seat so he could grab the back of Tony’s head and bring him closer. 

“Fuck, Bruce,” Tony whispered against his lips, moving one of his hands to cradle Bruce’s face, the other sitting on the other boy’s chest. 

Their tongues danced together, softly battling each other for dominance, playing with each other as they explored one another’s mouths. Tony noticed that Bruce tasted faintly like coke, and he wondered if Bruce minded that his mouth probably tasted like nicotine. Tony assumed he was in the clear if the noises Bruce was making were any indication, but made a mental note to keep a pack of gum in his bag at all time going forward. 

Their makeout session continued, getting more aggressive with every passing minute. Tony felt his dick get increasingly and unbelievably hard with every pant and whimper Bruce made. It took everything in him not to move one of his hands to his own crotch and relieve some of the pressure. It took even more restraint to not just start dry humping Bruce’s leg. The sounds the boy was making were positively sinful. Tony looked down at Bruce; face flushed, hair wild under the hat trying to contain it, his pupils blown with lust. 

He started to move his hand down Bruce’s body, taking a second to stop at his neck — the way he liked it when Natasha did it to him — before moving down to his chest, then his stomach. He could feel Bruce’s muscles flex under his finger tips, tensing as he reached the bottom of Bruce’s shirt. Tony could just lift it slightly and slide his hand underneath, touch the olive skin peeking out from underneath the black shirt. He could feel little goosebumps spread out over Bruce’s bare skin, and he wanted nothing more than to lift his shirt, run his hands across the toned body, before unbuckling his pants and touching the bulge that was becoming impossible to ignore. 

Fuck, Tony thought, pulling his hand back up to cup Bruce’s face, looking at the confusion in the other boys eyes. 

“Bruce, I —” he began, trying to fight against his own mind that was fighting against the vulnerability he was trying to show. “I just—”

“Let’s not make the first time in these uncomfortable seats, hmm?” Bruce prompted, sitting up in his chair, and cupping Tony’s face, bestowing a light kiss on the genius’ lips. 

“I could give you a more comfortable seat, Banner,” Tony joked, instantly regretting the false machismo that he used whenever he wanted to hide how he was really feeling. Why did he do this? God, he could really hate himself sometimes. 

“Why don’t we just continue with a makeout session?” Bruce offered. Tony didn’t miss the sad look that passed over his face. 

“In my car?”

“I was thinking on our second date, actually,” Bruce suggested, cupping Tony’s face to know he wasn’t uncomfortable with the other man. 

“If you can wait that long,” Tony replied, inwardly wincing at his words. Get it the fuck together, Tony. 

“I’m sure I’ll figure something out,” Bruce laughed, leaning back into his seat and looking back up at the dome. 

Tony leaned back too, trying to find solace in the hand clasped within his own. Why couldn’t he just experience what happened to him without getting into his head? Why did he fuck up every good thing that happened to him? He knew Bruce would figure out how messed up of a person he was. It was just a matter of time. Fuck, he wish he had some whiskey right about now. Just something to take his mind off, well, his mind. 

“Would you go to space?” 

“Huh?” Tony asked, looking over at Bruce who was fixated on the dome’s ceiling.

“Space. The final frontier. Would you go?” Bruce asked again, looking over at him. 

“I don’t know, man,” Tony said, locking eyes with Bruce. “The badass part of me says, yes, of course. But if I’m being honest, no.” 

“How come?”

“If I’ve learned anything from movies, it’s the space and the bottom of the ocean end in nothing but death,” Tony answered, looking back up at the ceiling. “Sure is pretty though.”

“I like the idea of being somewhere where no one can see me, but I still feel connected to people,” Bruce said, staring at the changing visuals. 

“You don’t like people?”

“I don’t like people looking at me,” Bruce said. “It’s...my family...I just don’t like it.” 

“Yeah,” Tony said, looking at Bruce. “I grew up my entire life with people staring at me. And my family. Me and my dad, mostly. I guess I don’t know what it’s like to not be in the public eye. I never really knew what privacy meant.” 

“Do you hate it?”

“I don’t know,” Tony answered honestly, fishing around in his pockets for a cigarette, fingering it before remembering he wasn’t actually outside. “I don’t know anything else.” 

“Sounds kind of lonely.” 

“I’ve always had people,” Tony said. 

“Doesn’t mean you’re not lonely,” Bruce whispered. 

“I guess I just never really felt that,” Tony lied. “Loneliness. People want to hang out with me. I want to hang out with them. I’m always with people.”

“It’s funny,” Bruce replied, shuffling in his seat.

“What is?”

“If you asked me before I knew you — well, I guess, like I know you now — based on the self-absorbed jackass I thought you were in class—”

“Ouch,” Tony said, lightly batting Bruce’s shoulder. 

“It’s what I thought you were,” Bruce exclaimed, laughing and grabbing Tony’s hand. “But if you asked me to describe that guy, I wouldn’t have gone with popular.”

“Oh? What would you have said?” Tony asked, eyes meeting Bruce’s. 

“Lonely.”

Tony’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at Bruce; Bruce with those unbelievably kind and empathetic eyes. Bruce who wasn’t judging Tony in this moment. Bruce who was just trying to share a connection. A connection Tony was so desperate to have with anyone, but especially Bruce. Someone who would stare into his eyes and tell Tony he was more than his father, more than Obi’s plans, more than what Justin did to him. So Tony did what he did best whenever someone tried to be real with him, when someone didn’t just treat him as a piece of shit or an obstacle or a nuisance; when someone wanted to share a special moment with him; Tony shut down. He shut down hard. 

“The only words to describe me are genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist I’m afraid, rat-a-tat,” Tony said, slightly folding into himself. 

“Loneliness isn’t a bad thing,” Bruce supplied, turning onto his side to look at Tony. 

“It isn’t then,” Tony answered sarcastically, but looked at Bruce nonetheless. 

“It just makes the people who make you feel less lonely even more special,” Bruce said. “The ones really worth fighting for.” 

“You know you’re like a 100-year-old man in a 20-year-old body, right?”

“21, but yes, I’ve been told,” Bruce answered, his face flushing red in embarrassment.

“It’s beautiful,” Tony said, leaning over and tilting Bruce’s chin up. “You’re beautiful.”

They just looked at each other for a few seconds before Tony leaned down and captured Bruce’s lips between his again. It was a softer kiss. There wasn’t any rush or hunger to it. It wasn’t the type of kiss that led to something else. It was just a display of affection, a confirmation of the beauty Tony saw before him. It was just a melding of two people so enamored with the puzzle piece sitting across from each other. It was…

Perfection, Tony thought, smiling against Bruce’s lips. 

He pulled back from Bruce, rubbing his thumb against the other man’s bottom lip. The lights in the planetarium theater came up, and a bored looking teenager not-so-subtly banged the door open. They grinned, standing up and rushing out of the theater, walking through the empty halls of the museum out to the main doors. Both Tony and Bruce shivered as the cold night air hit their bodies, Tony reaching out and pulling Bruce close to his body again. There was no one in the parking lot. He didn’t think Bruce would care. 

“Do you want to come back to my place for a bit?,” Tony asked as they settled in his car. “No pressure. I can also drop you off at home.”

“If I say something super lame, will you hold it against me?”

“Doubtful,” Tony answered. “I mean, if it’s something like you can’t sleep without a nightlight, I usually let my laptop run all night so—”

“No, no, nothing like that. But that’s good to know. I do the same thing.”

“Of course you do,” Tony chided, grinning. “What’s up?”

“I’ve never had a proper date, y’know?”

“What? How can that be—”

“I’ve gone out on dates, and I’ve done everything,” Bruce reassured Tony, going red. “But I’ve never had someone drop me off at home, have that final goodbye on a first date. Never had that kiss goodnight.”

“Aw, Brucey-bear! You little romantic, you.”

“It’s so lame right?” Bruce asked, hiding his face in his hands. 

“A little,” Tony laughed as Bruce groaned. “But it’s adorable. I could use more adorable in my life.”

“Yeah?”

“My friends are the opposite of adorable. Deviants. Hellraisers. Assholes. No, adorable is good, Brucey-bear.” 

“You’re okay driving me home, then?”

“I’m sure I’ll get you over to my apartment one day. I’m in no rush,” Tony said, grabbing Bruce’s hand and driving to the other man’s apartment. “What are you up to tomorrow?” 

“Is the famous Tony Stark trying to spend four days with the same person?” Bruce asked, feigning shock. 

“I wish, but I have to put in some time with the deviants. They get bored, and become increasingly more boring, if I’m not there,” Tony said, shooting Bruce an apologetic look. 

“I assumed,” Bruce assured, tightening his grip on Tony’s hand. “I would have been shocked. And I’m a natural introvert. I need some time to myself. Think about science. Maybe do some science.”

“I love doing science” Tony replied, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“I’m thinking more physics than biology and chemistry.”

“There you go breaking my heart again, Brucey,” Tony whined, grinning at Bruce’s laugh. 

“I’m sure we can meet up next week for some extra tutoring.”

“You’re such a fucking nerd, Banner,” Tony said, no trace of malice in his voice. 

Tony drove slower than usual through Cambridge. He wanted to spend as much time with Bruce as possible. The other man filled him in on what he was trying to do with the gamma radiation he stored in the lab, taking extra precautions to remind Tony that Dean Fury could never find out about what Bruce used the lab for after hours. Tony admired his commitment to experimenting. Bruce had the type of tenacity with work he only ever saw in himself — and Natasha’s workout schedules. Note to self: check in on Nat’s date with the super soldier, he thought as Bruce talked. He tried to contain his sigh, realizing he would have to talk to Natasha about a lot of things. He wasn’t willing to share Bruce with anyone, and that meant he couldn’t keep doing his weekly hookups with Natasha, something he’d gladly give up for Bruce. 

He pulled into Bruce’s apartment complex, parking in an empty spot, and killing the ignition, looking over at the other boy who was staring at Tony expectantly. 

“This is the part where I walk you to your door, we have an awkward little conversation before I lean down and kiss you and your foot pops or something, right?”

“If this was Princess Bride, yes,” Bruce laughed. 

“Most people I date don’t want me to walk them to their doors. Actually, we’re rarely out on dates. They mostly come over and leave.”

“Sounds lonely,” Bruce said.

Ah, that word again. 

“Practical,” Tony suggested. 

“Nothing spectacular was ever born out of practically,” Bruce whispered in the cold car, his breath visible as he spoke. 

“Ain’t that the fucking truth,” Tony whispered, leaning over to kiss Bruce, only to be stopped before he could claim his lips. 

“But I wouldn’t mind being walked to the door,” Bruce said, blushing. 

“Stay there,” Tony said, moving his arm away from Bruce and getting out of the car, walking around to Bruce’s side and opening the door. “If we’re going to do romance, we’re going to go full romance.” 

“Who’s the nerd now?” Bruce asked, taking Tony’s hand nonetheless and walking over to his door. 

“I’ve never been a nerd, Brucey,” Tony scoffed. “I’m a genius, and I love science, but I am not a nerd.” 

“Shame. You’d be a hot nerd,” Bruce sighed, standing outside his door, leaning against it as he looked at Tony. 

“I’m just hot, Brucey-bear,” he said, also leaning against the door, grinning. 

“This is the part where you kiss me, I think.”

“Our awkward conversation hasn’t even happened yet,” Tony exclaimed, winking at Bruce’s laugh. “Fine, we can skip that part. But only as long as you realize that I’m not going to make you wait for a phone call or something. Tuesday night. We’re going to watch a zombie movie, okay?”

“Okay,” Bruce answered, grabbing Tony’s hands. 

“And I’m going to text you before that because I like you and I generally annoy people I like, okay?” Tony explained, taking a step closer to the smaller man. 

“Okay,” Bruce said, dropping a hand tentatively to Tony’s waist. 

"And I'm not going to make you doubt anything about this or me or you, okay?" Tony said, cupping Bruce's face in his hands.

"Okay," Bruce whispered, his hands tightening on Tony's waist. 

“And now, I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

“Okay,” Bruce exhaled, a smile on his face as Tony’s head bent down, and his tongue darted out to ghost Bruce’s bottom lip.


	6. Chapter 6: Out of hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Writer's block turned into a depressive block turned back into writer's block. But here we are! That counts for something, right?

“Tony Stark! Report for fucking duty!”

Tony grinned at Clint through half-lidded eyes, standing on his kitchen counter, holding a bottle of Hennessy, cigarette nestled behind his ear, other hand wrapped around a beer bottle. Natasha was standing behind him, looking at Clint with a mixture of adoration and annoyance. Other people swarmed in and out of Tony’s eyesight as Childish Gambino played in the background. Rhodey was off to the side, leaning in to talk to Pepper, who was lightly swatting at his chest, laughing at whatever he said. 

_Total bliss, Tony thought. _

It was Saturday afternoon. The party had been going for a few hours. Tony was perfectly buzzed. And a little high. He couldn’t think of anything but his friends moving around his apartment. Tony decided to host a party earlier in the morning, still flying high from his date with Bruce. He went home, jerked off to images of the hot scientist, and tried to sleep. When it seemed like sleep wouldn’t come to him, around five am, he texted the group, telling them to come over in the afternoon, bring people, and start the weekend early. That’s how he ended up here, with Clint yelling at him from his kitchen counter, sloshed, and ready to go.  
“Don’t scuff my counters up, birdbrain,” Tony yelled, slowly getting up and grabbing the bottle from his friend. 

“It’s fucking marble,” Clint scoffed, steadying Tony as he got on the counter. 

“You’d still find a way to mess it up,” Tony replied, grabbing the cigarette from behind Clint’s ear, bringing it to his lips and lighting it.”

“Tony! What the fuck, man?” Rhodey yelled, taking his eyes away from Pepper. 

“What?”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“About what?”

“You smoking inside!”

“I don’t think we have.”

“Tony—”

“I would remember you and I having a heart-to-heart about my smoking habits.”

“Literally last weekend—”

“I wasn’t here last weekend.”

“You were in the exact same spot!”

“You’re thinking of someone else, honeypot,” Tony said, exhaling dramatically and taking a swig of the bottle Clint was holding up to his lips. 

“At least get some god damn air freshener, man.” 

Tony shook his head, grabbing Clint’s hand, and twirling him around as much as he could on the counter. He could feel Bucky’s eyes on him, glaring. Tony rolled his eyes, laughing at Clint’s awkward stumble, throwing an arm around his best friend. It didn’t matter if Clint and Bucky got married, the winter soldier, as Tony liked to call him, would have to remember that Clint and Tony were inseparable.

Next to Tony, Clint was the only other person in their group who was willing to do whatever, whenever. It’s what attracted Tony to Clint when they first met. Tony always assumed that Clint had his own shit he was hiding from him and their friends. He didn’t open up much. Clint didn’t ask questions, and neither did Tony. He was there when Tony needed him, and Tony was there for Clint, but they didn’t pry. They just cuddled and laughed and existed in their own bubble when they needed to shut out the outside world. That’s how their friendship operated. Tony hoped the winter soldier was ready for that.

“Your man is glaring at me,” Tony muttered into Clint’s ear, moving his hands down to his friend’s hips, swaying them in time together. 

“Is he?” Clint muttered back, snaking an arm around Tony’s lower back, bringing their hips together. 

“Is jealousy his thing? Get him all hot and bothered under the collar, let him ravish you,” Tony said, ghosting his lips over Clint’s neck. 

“That’s the plan,” Clint replied, arching his neck to give Tony more access, looking over at Bucky who was close to breaking a beer bottle sitting in his metal hand. “Looks like it’s working.” 

“How can I help things move along? No one should be deprived of your cock if they can help it,” Tony whispered, sliding one of his hands to the front of Clint’s pants, leaving it there.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Clint teased. “Just prepare.”

“Prepare for wh—woah, woah! Calm down big guy,” Tony said, looking up at Bucky’s face from his new place on the ground, the other man’s fist dangerously close to his head. 

“That,” Clint smirked, jumping down from the counter. 

“No harm, no foul?” Tony suggested, giving Bucky a friendly grin. 

“Stark, don’t ever fucking touch him again,” Bucky snarled, still hovering over the engineer. 

“Not even a high five?” 

“Don’t test me, Stark.” 

“As flattering as it is to see two extremely hot men fight over me, he’s just playing around, Buck,” Clint said, pulling him back from Tony. 

“He was...touching you,” Bucky said, turning to look at Clint, his glare softening as he cupped Clint’s face. 

“We’ve known each other a very long time,” Clint explained, giving Bucky a short kiss. “There’s nothing between Tony and I. We’re just very, very good friends. Right, Tones?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say there was nev—”

“Right, Tony?” Clint cut him off, giving Tony a look that shut him up. 

Tony sighed. “He’s right, soldier. I’m not interested in dating or doing anything else with Clint.”

Bucky looked between the both of them for a second before nodding. He kissed Clint again, smiling when the other man took his hand and led them to the living room where people were dancing. Tony stood up, brushing himself off, taking back his glass of whiskey from Natasha’s hand, giving her one of his classic smiles, littering her face with butterfly kisses. Tony watched as Clint manhandled Bucky, laughing silently at how embarrassed Bucky seemed, but willing to go along with it because that’s the type of magnetism Clint carried. He looked down as Natasha elbowed his ribs, raising a questioning eyebrow. 

“Does the widow want to dance?” Tony asked, throwing a dramatic arm over his heart and feigning a gasp. 

She rolled her eyes, but grabbed his hand, pulling him through the throng of people. Tony managed to make a gagging noise as he walked by Rhodey and Pepper, who were making out on a kitchen chair, ducking when Rhodey whipped an orange at his head. He followed Natasha easily, nodding at various faces he kind of recognized, ignoring the random people who showed up for a chance to party at the infamous Tony Stark’s apartment. Tony didn’t hate them for showing up, but he wasn’t going to try and make them comfortable either. They finally reached his room, and Natasha threw Tony onto the bed, closing the door behind her. 

“A different kind of dance then,” Tony suggested, going to undo his belt. 

“No.”

Tony immediately stopped fumbling with the button on his pants, looking at Natasha quizzically. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not really in the mood,” she waved off nonchalantly. 

“Then...why are we in here and not out there?” Tony asked exasperatedly. 

“Do you not want to hang out with me alone?”

“No, you know that’s not it,” Tony replied, tucking his shirt back into the front of his belt. “We don’t hang out one-on-one in here unless it leads to me coming somewhere on that delicate body of yours.” 

“You certainly know how to charm a girl, Stark,” Natasha murmured, slinking an arm around Tony’s neck.

“You’re giving me mixed signals here, Nat,” Tony grumbled, bringing his hands up to cup her ass. 

“And you need to know when no means no, Tony,” she bit out, pushing him onto his bed, sitting down in his desk chair. 

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, giving her an apologetic look. “What’s up?”

“We need to talk.”

“Are we breaking up?”

“Yes, actually,” she said, cocking her head to the side, studying his reaction. 

“We were never technically together, so—”

“Tony.”

He leaned back on his arms, looking at her. He gave her a lopsided smile and nodded his head. “I get it. Things went really well with Steve, huh?”

“It’s not just that,” she said, moving to sit beside him. “But yes.” 

“Dick must be great.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Now _that_ is surprising,” Tony said, grabbing the whiskey bottle off the bedside table and taking a quick swig. 

“Are you calling me a slut?”

“Not at all, just a woman who appreciates good sex,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I have no doubt we’ll get there,” she answered tersely, watching as Tony took another big shot. “Steve is only part of it.”

“Go on.”

“I’m not going to watch you kill yourself.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, sitting up, his look harshening immediately. 

“You can slowly kill yourself all you want, Tony, but I’m not going to sit by and watch it,” she said, running a hand through his hair. “I love you too much for that.” 

“I wish people would stop saying that,” Tony muttered, grabbing her hand, bringing it down to his chest. “I’m not killing myself.”

“You are. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but yesterday really scared me,” she admitted, wrapping an arm around her middle. 

“What about yesterday?”

“You woke up drunk,” she pointed out, “and then continued drinking super early in the morning.”

“It’s not like I had anywhere to be—”

“So you’re drinking because you’re bored?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, holding eye contact with her as he drank from the bottle again. “If that’s the answer that will stop making you look at me like that.” 

“You know how much I love you, baby,” she whispered. “But you need to figure your shit out. Without alcohol.” 

“So Rogers. Tell me everything,” Tony deflected, taking another swig and watching the red head. 

“You’re going to refuse to talk about this?” she asked, not even trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

“Worked out for me in life so far!”

“Anthony—”

“Stop it,” he demanded, his tone icy. He glared at her. “Don’t call me that.”

She sighed, looking at him. He refused to meet her eyes after a few seconds, instead glancing down at the bottle in his hands. Only one person called him Anthony. It would come just seconds before the back of a hand found its way to the side of Tony’s face, or before a belt lashed against his back. It would come before hands roughly shoved Tony’s mouth as far down a dick as it could go, choking him until he nearly passed out. It would come right before a cock forced its way into Tony’s body, as he screamed for Justin to stop. Justin was the only person who ever called him Anthony. Tony swore he would be the last. 

“Baby,” she whispered, sitting down beside him. “You need to talk to someone.” 

“About what?”

“Justin.”

“You don’t fucking know him,” he said, swatting her hand away, crossing to the other side of the room. “What the fuck is your obsession with him?”

“Not him, you,” she said, watching as he paced, his hand gripping the bottle. “That shift in you? Just now? That’s Justin, right? That’s the shit he left you with when you broke up.”

“I’m fine,” he seethed, taking an extra long gulp. “You need to back the fuck off, Nat.”

“Tony, you’re scaring everyone around you!”

He glanced over at that, eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“Rhodey! Clint! Everyone who matters,” Natasha yelled. “They’re all terrified you’re not going to come home one night or you’re not going to come out of your room one morning because you’re so fucking unhappy and the only way you know how to cope with it is through drinking yourself dumb that you’ll choke on your own vomit.” 

Tony stared at her dumbfounded. His grip on the bottle seemed to tighten on its own accord. This is what his friends thought? Was he this much of a burden to the people in his life? Clint seemed to be just fine. He knew Rhodey was concerned about the level of whiskey he was drinking day in and day out, but Clint never seemed to say anything about it. Did he? Shit. 

“I’m okay,” he whispered out. “Really.” 

“Tony, you can’t get through the day unless you’re buzzed.” 

“I...no...it’s not—”

“Tell me then,” Natasha pleaded from his bed. 

“I...I don’t,” he couldn’t seem to get anything out. 

Tony felt like he was back at home. He only got like this in front of his father — and Justin. He normally had an answer for everything. Tony could banter with the best, keep up with the sharpest tongued people he could find. He loved a challenge. But here, listening to Natasha ask about a problem he knew was an issue, he felt like a six-year-old, trying to get his father to care about him. He felt like an idiot. The word disappointment became louder with each passing microsecond. His stomach churned and everything went cold. 

“I need to get out of here,” he muttered, clinging the bottle close to his chest and turning to leave. 

“Tony!”

He paused, hand on the doorknob, preparing for what came next. For what always came next. 

“I won’t be here tomorrow.” 

She waited. 

He nodded, refusing to face her. He knew. 

“People always leave, Nat.”

He opened the door, fleeing as fast as he could. He pushed his way past random people, glancing over at Clint who was lost in his own world, making out with Bucky, still on the dance floor. Rhodey was pressed up against Pepper in the hallway, smiling down at her. No one was looking for him. He was a bother in their life. 

He managed to make it to the front door, barreling down the stairs in their apartment building and out into the cold Cambridge air. _Fuck, should have grabbed a jacket,_ he thought as he made his way over to his car, thankful for keys attached to one of his belt loops. Tony dug for a cigarette, leaning against his car hood, trying to calm down. He was thankful for the copious amounts of whiskey sitting in his stomach. It was staving off any panic attack Tony could feel building. 

What was he going to do? The party was in his apartment. His computer was stuck in his bedroom. His bedroom...where he left Natasha. Fuck. No way he could go back there right now. He didn’t want to drive to Sonny’s. He couldn’t drive to Sonny’s. He couldn’t really drive anywhere. But he wasn’t just going to sit in his car in the middle of his apartment complex’s parking lot trying to figure out what to do. For a genius, he was beginning to feel like a fucking idiot. 

Tony exhaled loudly, staring at MIT’s buildings just off in the distance. He could always head over to the mechanics lab, build something to keep his mind off things. Maybe there was an unsmouldered circuit board lying around he could turn into an afternoon project. MIT was only a 25 minute walk. He could hobble over there, hole himself up for a few hours, and go home when Rhodey texted, taking his eyes and hands off Pepper long enough to notice Tony wasn’t home. What else was there to do? 

Sighing, he opened his car door, grabbing a pair of AirPods he left in the center console. He bought them after forgetting to bring his headphones to school because he left in a hungover haze and forgetting to grab the pair he always kept on his nightstand one too many times. Shivering as he tightened his jacket, he started walking toward the school, trying not to overthink his conversation with Natasha. The worst thing he could do right now is overthink everything. 

Heavy synthesizers and drum machines pierced his brain as he walked. Tony nodded his head in time with it, the warmth of the whiskey he all but downed in his room spreading across his chest like a heavy blanket. He felt a drunk grin start to spread. A newly lit cigarette danced between his lips. Alcohol was funny. Or maybe it was biology that was funny, Tony thought as he walked toward the school, noticing his feet were a little heavier than usual. He was buzzed at the party, but now, despite the cold air, he could feel the alcohol seep into his bloodstream. Drinking too fast - it’s what all the college brochures warn you about. It was also the level Tony aspired to reach every day. 

His brain eventually turned to algorithms, as it usually did. Algorithms were safe. Whiskey felt safe. His life was never safe. From the moment he was a kid, Tony was a bottle of inferiority. Shitty feeling. Worse than anger, so he became angry. But angry is exhausting. It’s repulsive. Anger is all encompassing and scary. So anger became embarrassment, and the only way to deal with embarrassment was to drink until he didn’t care what people thought. He wasn’t inferior when he drank, or angry, or embarrassed. And since he felt nothing but inferior, angry, and embarrassed at any other god damn given hour, he would take what he could get. He’d fall asleep cradling a bottle of whiskey for as long as it helped.

_You’re a god damn, stupid, useless, mediocre idiot,_ he thought, shaking his head. Tony pulled extra hard and long on the cigarette, hoping it might make him feel a little light headed, focusing his body to focus on not blacking out. Trudging his way up the lane toward MIT’s main building, he figured the computer lab was probably the best place to go. He could access his programs and work until he passed out and security kicked him to the curb. The library would probably be pretty quiet. Most students would be in various labs if they were at school. 

_Lab. Huh,_ he thought, stopping suddenly in the middle of the lane. _I wonder if Bruce is here._ Fuck, he wanted to see Bruce. Bruce would make him feel better. Just the idea of the other scientist was enough to send ripples through his chest, his heart beating a little faster than usual. Tony needed Bruce. He made a sharp U-turn, hellbent on practically jogging down the path that led to the biology building where Bruce would be if he was at the school. Bruce said last night he wanted to do science, right? He was probably still doing science. It was only early evening. 

A sudden lurch in his stomach forced him to stop. _Ah, fuck,_ he panicked, raising the back of his hand to his mouth, shutting his eyes tight. Tony stumbled off to the side of the path, one arm wrapped around his stomach as he waited. He was either going to puke and get on with it, or his body was going to stay paralyzed in a state of nausea for the next several minutes. That’s how it always went. This time it was the former. 

“Ugh,” Tony groaned, trying to stop a second wave of vomit as the smell of his stomach contents hit his nostrils. “Gross.”

He never got used to this part. The embarrassment. He could puke until his esophagus eroded into slivers of flesh, but puking uncontrollably wherever he was, it was traumatizing. He kept picturing the look on his dad’s face if he could see what Tony looked like. Or worse, the look on Justin’s. _Fuck fuck fuck, don’t think about Justin._ A new wave of intense nausea rolled over him, only this time it had nothing to do with the substantial amount of whiskey sloshing around his stomach. Justin never approved of Tony’s drinking. He made sure to remind Tony of that anytime the Stark Industry prince waltzed in even the slightest bit tipsy. 

He heaved again, trying to stop the sprayback of vomit from hitting the front of his jeans and shoes. He felt the chunks blow past his teeth, and shuddered. Finally, when his stomach seemed to calm down and his mind cleared a little, he staggered toward a tree at the bottom of the lane. He’d sit down and wait it out, then hobble home. Hopefully Nat would be gone. And Clint. Everyone. Everyone always leaves, anyway. All he had was himself, and all he ever wanted to do was self-destruct.

Shit, it was cold. Tony could feel the carefree inebriation wear off, the best of it laid to rest in the vomit up the path. His head was beginning to pound. He was shivery. He had to piss. He needed more whiskey. All the telltale signs of needing more, desperately, immediately. His body was shutting down, and the only thing that would stop it is more. God, he was so fucking tired all of a sudden. He dug his hand into his pocket, digging for his phone. A missed call from Rhodey, three from Clint, and two texts from Natasha. 

** _“You’re a dick, моя любовь.”_ **

**“Please tell me you’re okay.”******

** **** **

** **** **

He groaned, swiping across the screen until he got to Clint’s name, tapping on it lightly. The phone was nestled between his ear and shoulder as he reached into his pocket for another cigarette. He was down to his last two. He could hear the ringing, slightly muffled by his movements, as he lit the cigarette, relaxing slightly once the nicotine hit his lungs.

“You son of a bitch, where the hell did you go?” 

“Is that how you would talk to your child if they were ever kidnapped?” Tony joked, trying to not let Clint’s angry tone bother him too much. 

“Tony, what the fuck, man?”

“I’m fine,” Tony said. “I’m really fine.” 

“Where did you go?” Clint asked, and Tony winced at the exasperation he heard. “You were here one second, and then you left and Tasha is freaking out—”

“She’s _freaking out?_” Tony asked, unable to stop the sarcasm dripping from his tongue like venom.

“Her version of freaking out.”

“She stopped blinking for a whole minute?” Tony asked, hating how juvenile he sounded but unable to stop himself. 

“Don’t be a jackass, Tones,” Clint sighed. “This party is pretty much over. Why don’t we kick the rest of the stragglers out, come get you, and order pizza?”

“I’m not hungry,” Tony said, for once not lying. He wasn’t hungry. He felt nauseous again. 

But he was cold, and sitting on his couch sounded better than being sad and alone in the cold. Maybe he could convince Clint to hang out for a while, just bullshit around with each other until Tony was back to a good level of fucked up. Couch, Clint, whiskey; a winning combination. _“Tony, you’re scaring everyone around you!” _

_Shit._ He couldn’t get Natasha’s fucking words out of his head. He couldn’t go home. Couldn’t be a god damn burden to anymore of his friends. 

“Then come and just hang out. Let’s watch Back to the Future—”

“You hate when we watch Back to the Future—”

“I know Tony, but—”

“Because I always point out the obvious flaws in the science,” Tony continued. “And then you get all ‘It’s just a movie, Tony’ about it.’”

“Yeah,” Clint loudly exhaled. “Well—”

“Christ, I’m such a fucking asshole,” Tony said quietly, more to himself than anybody else, almost forgetting he was still talking to Clint. 

“Tony, where are you?” Clint asked softly. 

“School,” Tony murmured. “Outside the library.”

“Outside the library,” Clint repeated.

“Tree.”

“You’re in a tree?”

“Not in it, kind of just on it,” Tony answered tiredly, looking at his makeshift seating arrangement. 

“On a tree...okay,” Clint laughed. “Don’t leave the tree. Buck and I are going to come find you.”

“K,” Tony whispered, letting the phone fall away from his ear. 

He rustled the cigarette pack in his hand, listening as the last two sticks shuffled back and forth. _Might as well finish them off,_ he thought, leaning his head back against the tree. His stomach was beginning to settle. He was tired. Really tired. Maybe he’d sleep tonight. Maybe everything would be better in the morning. Maybe all of this would turn out to be a bad dream. 

_Or maybe it’s time for me to get my shit together,_ the other side of his brain argued. Sober up, try and be a more present person instead of just sliding through life. He was tired of existing, but he was also so damn tired of drinking to not feel anything. It took longer and longer to reach the point of not caring, took more and more alcohol to hit the point of no return he chased every single day. _Shit, I’d kill for an Ambien right now,_ he thought, taking a drag of the cigarette nestled between his fingers. _Something to just knock me out. Let me sleep for more than a couple hours for once._ But for all his toxic coping mechanisms, Tony wasn’t suicidal. He knew mixing benzos and alcohol was a one way ticket to the morgue. He didn’t want to die. He just didn’t want to wake up.

A group of students walked by him, laughing with one another about something, not even glancing at Tony’s pathetic, half crumpled over body. Tony could barely make out their conversation. Something about a molecular decomposition. He bet Bruce would know. 

“Ah, fuck!” Tony yelled, looking up at the night sky, his breath visible in the dark Boston sky. 

_Bruce._ It was only a day, but Tony missed him. That was his obsessive side. The world stopped when Bruce was around. He couldn’t see Bruce like this though. He couldn’t _let_ Bruce see him like this. Tony didn’t want Bruce to know anything about this part of his life. He needed to figure out a way to hide it. _I should just end things,_ the rational part of his brain interjected, _before anyone gets hurt._ He knew. He understood the implications of what he was doing — of how much he was willing to lie about just so he could stay close to Bruce. No one ever said Tony was a selfless man. 

He took out his phone, flipping through his last conversation with Bruce. They texted that morning about which Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle was superior. Tony wasn’t expecting Bruce to go head-to-head with his obscure Ninja Turtle talking points, but was elated when the other man managed to outthink some of Tony’s own points. He couldn’t waltz through anything when it came to Bruce. The chemist kept Tony on his toes. It was hotter than anything he ever experienced with his exes, all brilliant in their own ways, but no Bruce. Bruce wouldn’t let him off the hook for anything, but talking to him was the easiest thing in the world. 

He heard the sound of a car pulling into the parking lot at the bottom of the hill, and lifted his head, throwing an arm over his eyes as the headlights blinded him. He could barely make out Clint jumping out of the passenger sweet, walking toward him. His birdbrain. Bucky’s figure was barely visible behind Clint, but Tony could see him looking over, his head resting on his hands that were folded over on the roof of his tiny Acura. _Shit car._

“When you said you were sitting on a tree I didn’t think you meant you were sitting _on a tree,_” Clint joked, falling onto the ground beside Tony, letting his eyes crinkle while he smiled. 

“A Stark never lies,” Tony quipped, leaning his head on Clint’s shoulder. 

“Well that’s bullshit,” Cling slung back, leaning his cheek on the top of Tony’s head, running his hand up and down Tony’s thigh. 

“Winter Soldier isn’t going to get angry that we’re cuddling is he?”

“We’re not cuddling,” Clint argued, nestling his head against Tony’s even more. “But no. Bucky doesn’t hate you, y’know.”

“And I’m the one spouting bullshit,” Tony barked out, laughing. 

“He’s jealous of you.”

“Because of how well I can take that beautiful coc—”

“Because you’re so loved,” Clint said, cutting him off tersely. “Buck only ever had Steve. His family life sucked. And his life was shit before he met Steve, before he met us.”

“My life wasn’t exactly fucking puppy dogs and gumballs,” Tony spat, pulling away from Clint and tossing him a bewildered look. 

“I know, I know,” Clint said, putting an arm around Tony’s shoulders and bringing his friend back into his side. “But all he ever had was Steve. He never had a group of friends. But he sees you, he sees this group you’ve built, you being the glue at the center of it all, and he can’t help but want it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Clint said, tightening his grip. “We all fucking love you, Tony.”

“I know,” he muttered, his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. 

“Nat told me about your conversation.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, you said that,” Clint said, trying to lighten the mood. “She didn’t want to hurt you, Tony. And you know she’s not going anywhere. Black Widow spits venom, but none of us want to hurt you. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“You’re hurting yourself, and that’s hard to fucking watch,” Clint admitted, huffing.

Tony looked up at Clint, watching as his best friend tried to keep his emotions in check. There were unfallen tears threatening to spill over. Clint looked toward Bucky, still standing in the same position as he was when the car pulled up. Tony looked away in discomfort. He and Clint didn’t have this type of conversation. With Natasha or Rhodey, maybe. But Clint was his optimistic, always down to clown buddy. And now he was sitting here, broken, holding onto Tony like if he let go even an inch, Clint would never see him again.

“I’m cancer,” Tony whispered. “I’m nothing but cancer.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Clint asked, pulling Tony away just far enough that he could look at him while they talked. 

“All I do is fuck up,” Tony said, knowing that he wouldn’t be talking so openly if he wasn’t so drunk and tired. “I fuck up again and again and again, and then I hurt the only people who really care about me. I’m cancer.” 

“That’s just fucking untrue,” Clint said, grabbing Tony’s face, making him look at Clint while he talked. “Tones, I don’t know why you think that, but you’re not fucking cancer. And you’re not a fuckup. How long have you been feeling this way?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony answered, his mind beginning to catch up with his words and the shame seeping in. “I believe you said something about Back to the Future?”

“Tony,” Clint sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time. “We have to talk about this.”

“No, actually, we don’t,” Tony replied curtly. “What we need to do is go home, watch Back to the Future, and fall asleep. Wanna stay over and cuddle?”

Clint gave him a hard look. “Do you want me to stay over and cuddle?”

“I don’t really care,” Tony lied. He didn’t want to be alone tonight. 

“Right,” Clint said, his eyes never leaving Tony’s face. “I could use a good ‘ol slumber party. We haven’t done that since Thor was here.”

“God, I miss Thor,” Tony laughed, thinking of the quirky exchange student who quickly became their friend. He went back home to Norway at the end of last semester, but promised he’d be back this spring.

“Me too, Tones,” Clint said, cupping his best friend’s face and placing a quick but loving kiss on Tony’s cheek. 

“Better not let Winter Soldier see that,” Tony joked, nodding his head toward Clint’s boyfriend, who was now sitting in the car, scrolling through his phone. 

“Winter Soldier’s not that bad,” Clint said, jumping up and brushing off the back of his jeans. “Wanna go watch some bad science movies and cuddle?”

“Sure,” Tony smiled, staring at Clint’s outstretched hand, debating it for a second before accepting the offer and standing up. “I don’t usually take things that are handed to me, you know.”

“Yeah, I think by now I know pretty much all of your eccentric quirks,” he responded as they walked toward Bucky’s car. “Most of them are adorable, for what it’s worth. Charming.”

Tony didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply nodded. Clint helped him get into the backseat of Bucky’s car, both Tony and the Winter Soldier nodding at each other in recognition as Clint got in. Tony could tell that Bucky wanted to go home with Clint by the strained answers he was giving his boyfriend — _were they boyfriends? They sure acted like boyfriends,_ Tony thought — as Clint explained that he and Tony were going to spend some time talking. He couldn’t stop the guilty feeling from creeping in. _You’re such a pathetic needy shit, _ he thought as Bucky pulled into the parking lot of his and Rhodey’s apartment complex. 

He jumped out to give Bucky and Clint some privacy as they said goodnight, walking over to his car to fish out an extra pack of cigarettes he left on the car seat. Today was exhausting. It started out fine, great even. Now, he just wanted to curl up in bed and try to get the voices in his head to stop. The ones that said he was inadequate; the ones that called him a monster; the ones that said he was undeserving, cruel, manipulative, narcissistic, and unnecessary. Those voices went from faint murmurs to unbelievably loud banging. He couldn’t escape it. He wanted someone or something to take away all of it for just a few minutes. _Please,_ he begged to some greater power that he didn’t believe in, _let me stop hurting for five fucking minutes. _

Tony inhaled, watching the ember at the end of his cigarette come alive in the night air, sneaking a glance at Clint and Bucky. Clint was laughing, peppering Bucky’s face with kisses as Bucky held him. They seemed so carefree, so happy. Tony bet they already had inside jokes with each other like he did with Bruce. _Bruce._ Just thinking of the man, right now in this exact state, made his chest hurt. He loved Clint, but Tony really wanted Bruce to make him feel like only Bruce seemed to be able to make him feel. But he didn’t want Bruce to see him like this, or feel like he had to cheer Tony up. His entire existence was a double edged sword. 

Finally, Clint opened the car door, tossing one last loving insult at Bucky before making his way over to Tony. He watched as Clint approached, tossing a quick wave to Bucky who made a U-turn to get out of the parking lot. He should try and be nicer to the guy. Clint seemed to really like him. Clint leaned against the car, pulling the lit cigarette from Tony’s fingers and taking a drag. They stood there for a couple of moments in comfortable silence, watching as the smoke from the end of the cigarette drifted into the air between them. 

“We’re gonna have a couple of ground rules for this sleepover,” Clint said, handing the cigarette back to Tony.

“Are we now?” Tony asked, eagerly placing the stick back between his lips. 

“If I’m going to put up with you explaining the intricacies of time travel—”

“All I’m saying is that if I had a few good nights, I could figure it out in a much more believable fashion.”

“—then you’re not going to drink,” Clint said, giving him a leveled stare.

“We talking no hard alcohol? What if I get thirsty? Can I have a Corona? It’s basically piss water,” Tony argued, flicking the cigarette butt. 

“No beer, no whiskey, no White Claw, no nothing, Tones,” Clint said, turning to lean against the car on his side and look at Tony while he spoke.

“Is weed off limits?”

“I don’t know,” Clint said as Tony fumbled with the keys to his apartment complex. “I should say yes, that you should stay completely sober tonight, but I don’t know if you can.”

Tony went to give him an overly exasperated look but stopped himself. Clint had a point. Tony didn’t really do sobriety, especially at night and especially before bed. There was no way that Tony could have just sat down and watched a movie without something. _Get your life together, you fucking screw up,_ he thought as Clint held the door open for him. 

“Weed isn’t even a thing, it’s fine,” Tony joked, bouncing up the stairs. “But fine, no drinking.”

“None.”

“None!”

“I will make Rhodey sit on you if I see anything close to resembling alcohol in your hands.”

“Promise?” Tony asked grinning as they entered his apartment. 

“Promise what?” Rhodey asked from the kitchen table where he was sitting with Pepper. Tony noticed that he was only in a pair of sweats, and she was only in one of his military training shirts. 

“Clint said you’re going to sit on my face.”

“I didn’t say face!” Clint yelled, throwing his arm over his eyes. 

“Why is anyone sitting on anyone at all?” Pepper asked, her eyebrow raised. 

“Where’s the fun in not sitting on people?” Tony asked, crossing his arms. 

“Oh, right, sorry. Let me just replay the benefits of suffocation in my mind,” Pepper drolled, rolling her eyes. 

“No one said anything about suffoc—”

“That thing that happens when you sit on someone and they stop breathing? Yeah, that’s called suffocation.”

“Oh, is that what it’s called?”

“Maybe if you spent more time studying in biology class instead of playing with imaginary robots you’d know that, Tony.”

Tony gave her a long once-over, darting his tongue out, and nodding in an impressed fashion. “I like this one, Rhodey.” 

“Yeah me too,” he answered, tightening his hold on her waist. “That’s why we’re going to bed. Before Pepper gets to know how you really are and breaks up with me because of it.”

“Night, schnookums,” he yelled, watching their retreating forms.

He laughed with Clint as they grabbed snacks from the kitchen, ignoring the mess that was left from the party. They would take care of it tomorrow. That was tradition. Rhodey, Clint, Tony, and Natasha would all gather in the morning and pitch in to help clean up. It started off as a chore that Tony inflicted on his two fuck-buddies-turned-best-friends, but now they cherished the time together. “Mandatory bonding, bondage totally optional,” as Tony referred to it. Maybe Pepper would replace Natasha this time. 

Tony shook his head, not wanting to think about it. He just wanted to curl up with Clint. They dropped the snacks on his nightstand, Clint leaping to grab Tony’s PlayStation controller and flop on the bed. He patted the empty space next to him, raising a lecherous eyebrow. Tony laughed, but jumped into the space regardless. Clint rolled on top of him for a second, squeezing Tony tight to his chest, before rolling onto his side and fitting his body around his best friend’s. Clint maneuvered the controller while holding Tony, loading up Netflix and queuing up Back to the Future. 

“Are you going to correct it from the get-go?” Clint whispered against Tony’s neck, dropping a quick kiss. 

“You took away my juice and now you expect me not to throw a temper tantrum?” Tony joked.

“Yes?”

“I’ll try not to,” Tony whispered, snuggling back into Clint, silently appreciating when Clint tightened his hold. The physical pressure helped keep Tony’s anxiety at bay. 

Tony kept to his word. He was less annoying than usual, trying to stay on his best behavior for Clint’s sake. There were a few scenes he couldn’t restrain himself over (“Oh please, like as if someone could figure out time travel _that_ quickly!”), but he was mostly good. Half way through the movie he felt Clint’s breathing even out, his hold loosen a little. Tony smiled when he heard soft snores coming from his friend, wiggling out of his arms slowly in an effort to not wake him, chuckling softly when Clint flopped onto his back.

He walked over to get his phone from the jacket pocket he left it in, hoping there was another text from Nat. Tony wasn’t going to send one first. He knew she needed her space, and he wanted to give it to her. Nothing wrong with hoping though, right? 

** _New message: Bruce Banner_ **

_Even better,_ he thought, unable to keep the grin off his face. 

** _I was going to be the cool guy who waits for the hot dude to send a text before caving in and sending a text first, but I was distracted all day in the lab thinking of you. Thinking of your hands, thinking of your lips, thinking of you doing science in the lab with me. So now I’m sending you this long, sappy text because I’m going out of my mind and being an anxious wreck means that I don’t think before I act, and here we are. Anyway, this is a really, really, much too long text and I’m just going to get to the point now, okay? I know we’ve only hung out a few times and known each other like a week, but I like you. I think I could like you a lot. And as dumb as it is considering I’ve only known you a week, I miss you. Let me know if you want to like, I don’t know, grab breakfast or lunch or dinner or hang out at all tomorrow. _ **

Tony shook his head at Bruce’s text, overcome with a feeling of adoration so strong that his chest hurt and it took a little strained effort to breathe. _This fucking boy,_ he thought, thumbs tapping away at the pop up keyboard. He sent a reply text, dropping his phone on the nightstand, debating for a second if he could sneak into the kitchen for a quick shot of whiskey before creeping back into bed. He looked down at Clint’s face, serene as he slept, and decided against it. He owed Clint at least his word. 

Falling back into bed, Tony sighed, knowing he wouldn’t sleep for a little bit, despite how tired he was. He closed his eyes anyway, trying to match his breathing to Clint’s, trying to just exist in this moment — this second where Clint was beside him, where Bruce wanted to be with him, where Rhodey wasn’t mad at him, and where Natasha would hopefully forgive him. This tiny little second where maybe, for the first time in a long while, everything would be okay. Across town, Bruce Banner was in his own bed, running a hand through his hair and smiling as he read a text from the boy he couldn’t stop thinking about. 

** _New message: Tony Stark_ **

** _1 pm tomorrow. Wear boots, or whatever shoes you don’t care about getting dirty. We’re going to spend the day together. Oh! Before I forget._ **

** _I like you a whole lot too, Brucey-bear._ **


	7. Chapter 7: The best view

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got a little more action here, but nothing suuuuper detailed yet. I hate reading long burns but HERE WE ARE.

It was an abnormally warm day for late fall in Massachusetts. The trees were beautiful — yellow, red, and orange leaves flowing back and forth in the light wind. Tony kept the window down just enough to let the intoxicating smell of the salty ocean float into the car. The roads were mostly empty the further east they got, the sounds of remaining seagulls that hadn’t flown south yet cawing in the air acting as background music to their drive. 

Tony looked over at Bruce, his hand perched comfortably on top of the other man’s as it rested on Bruce’s thigh. Bruce was staring out the window, a small smile on his face as his eyes took in the ocean water rolling in and out, moving with a sense of confident purpose. His eyes never left the water. It was hard for Tony to take his eyes off Bruce. He hadn’t seen the man this serene before. Usually he was all wound up, playing with his hands and biting his lip. This was a new side of Bruce that he got to experience. 

“Beautiful, right?”

“Yeah,” Bruce whispered, turning to give him a shy smile. “I don’t usually come out this far.”

“No car?” Tony asked, immediately regretting it. 

“Nah,” Bruce answered easily, staring out the window once again. “I don’t even know how to drive. I should probably do that.”

“You grew up in Ohio and you never learned how to drive?” Tony asked incredulously. “How did you get around?”

“There are these things called busses, Mr. Stark,” Bruce teased, raising Tony’s hand to place a quick kiss to the back of it. “I either took the bus or walked. I did a lot of walking.”

Tony could hear Bruce’s voice tense up. Fuck. He thought of a new subject as quickly as possible, asking Bruce about what he was working on these days and his opinion on time travel as presented in Back to the Future. Two important topics that Tony could focus on for the next few minutes as they pulled up to the hiking spot he wanted to bring Bruce on. He laughed as Bruce sputtered over Back to the Future, making a mental note to introduce Bruce to Clint as soon as possible. He needed all the backup he could get.

Conversation between them was always easy. It never failed to surprise Tony. He was so used to either having to flirt his way to an exit point, or an entry point depending on how much he wanted to sleep with the person occupying his time, or foregoing any politeness at all. Bruce was interesting; he was captivating and riveting and challenged Tony on things that most people just nodded along with to earn his acceptance. He hated it. Hearing Bruce throw down fact after fact, argument after argument, was so incredibly hot. 

He continued to laugh as he pulled off the highway, into a little spot that most drivers would pass by without a second glance. Bruce looked at him expectantly as he unfastened his seatbelt, turning in his seat slightly to give the beanie-wearing boy a reassuring smile. 

“I told you to bring boots didn’t I?”

“I just assumed you didn’t hike,” Bruce admitted, stretching his arms. “I guess I should have learned by now not to assume anything about you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, you’re nothing but constant surprises.” 

“Sorry.”

“Only the best, Mr. Stark,” Bruce teased, laughing at Tony’s light blush before getting out of the car. “So where are we anyway?”

“One of my favorite spots,” Tony answered vaguely. “C’mon, Brucey bear.”

It was a perfect day for hiking. Tony brought some drinks for both of them (Pepsi for Bruce, actual drinks for himself), and a few snacks packed tight into his backpack, hoping to take some time to just hang out with Bruce once they got to his spot. He was anxious. He never brought anyone here. This had become his spot for the last two years. Tony wasn’t sure why he was bringing Bruce here so early, but it just felt right. 

Their hike was relatively easy. Tony flirtatiously teased Bruce about his hiking inexperience (“You have an appalling lack of hiking skills for someone from Ohio, Brucey-bear), and Bruce laughed every time Tony freaked out over a wasp or spider that came too close to him (“Insects exist in the wild, Tony”). There was no one else out on the trail today. A rarity. Tony assumed people were taking advantage of the good weather and hanging out on boats, bar patios, and rooftops. There weren’t going to be many more of these days. Winter was just around the corner; people would hibernate in their apartments, couple up for the cold six months, and count the days until they could be outside again. 

By the time they got to the clearing, Bruce was panting, sweat clinging to his hoodie. Tony was slightly ahead of him, scoping out the grounds, giant smile clinging to his cheeks. From atop the hill he got a perfect view of MIT and Harvard. Cambridge’s town square was full of people, but he couldn’t hear them from where he stood. The colorful trees blanketed the town. It was poetic; a little bit whimsical, with the colonial buildings standing in the foreground. It was perfectly normal. The opposite of New York. The opposite of where he grew up. The opposite of what his father loved. The complete opposite of what Justin would have demanded. Here he was just Tony Stark, MIT student, person who lived in Cambridge with all the other geniuses and academics and locals. 

“Wow,” he heard Bruce gasp as the smaller boy stood beside him, lightly panting. His dick twitched at the sound. Calm down boy, he thought. 

“Where are we?”

“This, my dear Brucey, is my favorite place in the world,” Tony exclaimed, unable to keep the childlike enthusiasm out of his voice. “It’s got the best view of Cambridge.”

“Yeah,” Bruce voiced, nodding. “How did you come across it?”

“Uh,” Tony paused, not wanting to explain that he was driving after a few drinks, pulled over to puke, and wound up walking up the hill late at night. “I really had to pee and pulled over. Saw the hiking trail and figured why not?”

“One lucky pee break.”

“Even pissing becomes a strategic thing out here,” Tony joked, holding back a laugh as Bruce’s upper lip twitched. “Oh! I brought us a few snacky things.”

“Snacky things? I didn’t realize a Stark snacked on snacky things” Bruce commented, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Look who’s suddenly extremely snarky. You can’t take my thing, Bruce. It’s my thing.”

“You can’t own an attitude.”

“Clearly you’ve never read any of the numerous GQ features proclaiming I can, and do, just that,” Tony answered, winking as he took a couple of glasses out and their drinks. 

“Does dating you come with pre-required reading materials?”

“You’re going to flunk the pop quizzes if you don’t study up,” Tony quipped right back. “How else will you know what to get me for my birthday?”

“Is that the type of thing GQ writes about?”

“Journalism hasn’t been the same since Watergate. All downhill. Nothing but listicles and exposes on what Daddy and Mommy decided to give their little Tony for his birthday.”

“What topped the list this year?”

“Distance,” Tony answered honestly, immediately regretting the honesty in his answer. “And a night of unlimited spending at ZaZa’s Gentleman's Establishment.”

“I hope the ladies were worth it,” Bruce joked, sitting down on a blanket that Tony seemed to whip out of thin air. 

“Don’t know,” Tony answered, lowering his glasses and wiggling his eyebrows at Bruce. “The men certainly were.” 

“You’re so gay,” Bruce laughed, lying down beside Tony. 

“Bi,” Tony argued, pausing. “I don’t know. Maybe pansexual.”

“You have time to explore,” Bruce answered, looking over as Tony fiddled with getting a cigarette out of his jeans pockets. “Mints?”

“After last time Brucey I don’t travel anywhere without them,” Tony replied, patting his jacket pocket, both laughing at the clanging of a metallic tin ringing out between them both. 

They lay there, Tony quietly inhaling and exhaling, Bruce watching the cigarette smoke fill his lungs, and leave his body. It was almost meditative. They didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Their fingers were interlaced, Tony running his thumb over the back of Bruce’s hand. Bruce shuffled closer to Tony at some point, leaning his head on the other boy’s shoulder. Tony placed a quick kiss on his temple, sighing contently. They breathed in time together. 

“This is not exactly what I was expecting today,” Bruce announced suddenly, staring down as his and Tony’s clasped hands. 

“Like you said, I’m nothing but surprises. Better or worse?”

“Just different. You’re so ADHD. I can’t picture you just laying out somewhere and enjoying it,” Bruce said, turning his head slightly to see Tony’s face. 

“The world is at your fucking feet when the wind hits you just right, and your sucking on a cigarette with a beer in your hands,” Tony answered, sitting up and ruffling through his bag. “The only thing missing right now is a beer for me, and a Pepsi for you.”

“I’m impressed you remembered,” Bruce said earnestly, taking the drink from Tony and giving him a quick kiss.

“I remember everything,” Tony lied, taking a series of extra long gulps from his beer.

“Oh!” Bruce yelled, as if he remembered something. “We’re not going to have sex up here.”

Tony sputtered, spitting out a mouthful of beer. He turned to look at Bruce, eyes wide in shock, droplets of beer clinging to his bottom lip. He watched at Bruce laughed, leaning forward to wipe away the wasted drink from his mouth, and leaning back on his forearms. 

“Did I imply we were going to have sex?”

“Taking someone to a remote location with nothing but a blanket and … what, conversation for entertainment? It kind of implies sex.”

“That’s fucked up, Brucey,” Tony said, shaking his head. “I wasn’t going to have you fuck me for the first time on top of a hill where anyone could find us. Maybe the tenth or twentieth time.”

“I fuck you?” Bruce asked, not even trying to keep the surprise out of his voice.

“Ideally,” Tony replied nonchalantly. “I’ll gladly fuck you, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t pictured riding what I’m sure is your immaculate cock over the last few days.”

“Tony! Jesus fucking christ,” Bruce muttered, his face turning beet red. 

“Are you saying you haven’t pictured fucking me deep into the mattress?” Tony whispered into Bruce’s ear, delighting in the shiver Bruce couldn’t control. “Kitchen counter, maybe? Whatever gets you off, baby. Pulling my hair, wrapping a hand around my throat, making me your—”

“If you don’t stop, you’re going to have to take care of this,” Bruce interrupted, pointing at the obvious tenting in his pants. 

“I can take care of that right now if you want,” Tony whispered again, running his hand up Bruce’s thigh slowly, giving him a chance to pull away, watching as his eyelids fluttered and his legs widened slightly. “Can make you come in my hands in less than five minutes, have you screaming my name.”

“Tony,” he managed to utter out, watching as his hand stopped just short of his cock.

“Bruce, please,” Tony begged, but keeping his hand steady, watching Bruce’s face, waiting for confirmation. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Tony,” Bruce whimpered, hips thrusting as Tony’s hand grazed over his covered erection. 

Tony slowly slinked his body down to the ground, keeping the palm of his hand grinding into Bruce’s erection, grinning slyly as he felt the other man’s dick twitch. He held Bruce’s eye contact as he slinked down, right in front of Bruce’s crotch, never once letting up his stare. He watched, enthralled, as Bruce’s eyelids fluttered closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his hips twitching uncontrollably. 

He kept his hand moving at a glacial pace, never letting up on the pressure as he dug in with each rub. Bruce let out a throaty moan, one hand clutching the blanket they were lying on, the other wrapping his hand in Tony’s hair. Tony took that as encouragement, moving forward to ghost his lips over Bruce’s dick, outlining the impressive shape with his mouth, his hot breath leaving behind little spots on Bruce’s jeans. He let out a tiny pleasurable sob as Bruce tightened his grip, pulling on Tony’s hair. 

“That’s an interesting reaction,” Bruce commented, pulling on Tony’s hair again. 

Tony couldn’t stop the breathy whimper that escaped his lips, eyes closed leaning into Bruce’s hand. He slowly opened his eyes, and had to stop another moan out of fear he would embarrass himself. Bruce’s hair was completely disheveled, his beanie nowhere in sight. His pupils were blown wide, cheeks totally flushed. His bottom lip was slightly swollen, clearly from biting down on it. He looked at Tony with nothing but attraction, lust, and adoration in his eyes, and it scared the shit out of Tony. He couldn’t stop the flash of Justin’s face from appearing, the raw fury and hatred, his hand high up in the air before it came down hard on his fac—

“Ahhhh,” Tony seethed out as Bruce tugged sharply on his hair, unaware that at some point he turned away from Bruce — from Justin — to look at the ground. 

“Where did you go?” Bruce asked, his voice soft but demanding. 

“Nowhere,” Tony answered, not ready to go down that road. 

Bruce studied him for a second, his eyes never leaving Tony’s face. 

“Maybe we should stop.” 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“No, please,” Tony rushed out, hating how pathetic he sounded to his own ears. “Please.”

“Tony,” Bruce cooed, moving his hand to cup Tony’s face, rubbing his thumb up and down Tony’s cheek, gliding it across his lips. 

“I just…,” Tony trailed off, keeping his eyes on Bruce as he moved the other man’s hand back to his hair, making him clasp a fist around a chunk of hair. “I need this.” 

Again, Bruce studied him. Tony waited, not moving a muscle, staring at Bruce, waiting for the other man to decide. Something in Bruce changed. He watched as Bruce wrestled with it, something inside him churning. Tony could see it happen in real time. It terrified him. It fucking excited him. 

Finally, after what seemed like minutes, Bruce tightened his grip, and yanked Tony up into a searing kiss. Tony moaned, sliding his tongue across Bruce’s as the other man fought for dominance. They found their rhythm. Bruce would occasionally nip at Tony’s bottom lip, causing Tony to whimper each time, silently pleased with himself as he felt Bruce’s cock grow harder against his ass, grinding his hips down while sitting on Bruce’s lap. 

They couldn’t stop making out, letting each other’s lips go to breathe quickly before diving back in. Bruce was in full control, and Tony was riding high. He didn’t want to compare Bruce to Natasha, but it was just so much more electrifying. Tasha always got him off, and the sex was incredible, but Bruce commanded Tony without having to be told or asking what Tony wanted. He just did what Tony needed. He was practically ready to come in his pants from the light dry humping they were doing, and Bruce’s skilled tongue. Tony never wanted it to stop. 

“You still want to get me off, precious?” Bruce asked, his voice deep and heavy, laced with pure lust. 

Precious. Tony couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling in the back of his head, moaning greedily, not even bothering to care as he nodded vigorously. 

“Are you going to do as I say?” Bruce asked, his voice still deep and far gone. 

Tony nodded again, his mouth suddenly very dry, taking in Bruce’s less than subtle dominant undertones. The way he held Tony still on his hips with one hand, the other holding the back of his neck study, his fingers yanking slightly on the hairs at the nape of Tony’s neck. 

“Use your words, Tony,” Bruce demanded, rubbing circles into Tony’s hip with his thumb. 

“Yes,” Tony managed, still nodding. 

“Yes, what?” 

Oh, fuck me, daddy, Tony thought, unconsciously grinding his hips onto Bruce’s cock, watching as he took in a sharp intake of breath. 

“Yes, sir,” Tony whispered, leaning down to kiss Bruce again. It was soft. Nothing as demanding as before. 

Bruce suddenly stopped, moving the hand that was sitting on the back of Tony’s neck up into the engineer’s hair, grabbing as tight as possible and moving the other hand to palm Tony’s own erection through his pants. Holy shit, Tony thought, shameless rutting into Bruce’s hand. Bruce moved his hand skillfully up and down Tony’s erection, peppering hard kisses to the man’s jawline as Tony continued to thrust into Bruce’s hand. 

“Thought you, ah, wanted me to take care of, fuck, Bruce, you,” Tony managed to mutter. 

“I told you I wasn’t having sex with you up here,” Bruce answered calmly. Tony despised for a second that Bruce seemed so collected when he obviously wasn’t. 

“Then wha—”

“I’m going to make you come,” Bruce said, moving Tony’s hips down so he was rutting against Bruce’s thigh. “Just like this.”

“Bruce,” Tony whined, leaning his head into Bruce’s hand as he pulled on his hair, not stopping his dry humping of Bruce’s leg. “Can I take my pants off at least?”

“No. I want to see you come undone just like this,” Bruce answered, eyes cast down, watching as Tony moved himself back and forth on his thigh. “I want you to come exactly as you are.”

It shouldn’t have been as much of a turn on as it was, but it sent Tony off. He started riding Bruce’s leg, feeling his heavy cock Twitch as he rubbed it against Bruce’s thigh. He needed to get off. He wanted to get off just like this. He wanted to watch Bruce watch him totally lose it, as Bruce held him steady, leaving hickeys on his neck, pinching his nipple, and running a hand across his ass. Bruce couldn’t get enough of Tony, and it made him feel like enough for a split second in time. 

“You feel so good riding me, precious,” Bruce whispered against Tony’s ear, daring his tongue out to play with Tony’s earlobe, sending shivers down the mechanic’s spine. “I can feel your cock, it’s so hot. I can see the sweat build on you. You’re so beautiful, Tony. You don’t even know it. You’re so perfect for me right now, just like this, baby. Want to watch you lose it, baby.”

Tony moved faster with each compliment, wanting so badly to impress Bruce, to give him everything he was asking for. Every compliment went straight to his dick. He had never felt this secure with someone before, this fast. But with Bruce, he wasn’t worried about anything. He was just existing, in this moment, in total bliss. He was almost there. He could feel his balls begin to tighten, the hot feeling build in the pit of his stomach as the muscles started to tighten. He just needed one thing.

Tony reached out to grab Bruce’s hand from his hair, watching as the other man dropped his dominant persona for a split second, eying him out of curiosity. Tony made sure to keep eye contact, moving Bruce’s hand from his hair to his throat, placing his fingers around the base of it, arching slightly to make sure Bruce got the message. Bruce paused for a millisecond before tightening his grip slightly, keeping his eyes trained on Tony’s. 

“You belong to me, Tony,” Bruce whispered against his jaw, leaving behind small nips. “Mine.” 

“Ughhhhhh,” Tony gargled out, hips frantically thrusting as he came in his pants. 

He rode out his orgasm slowly, jutting slightly as the last aftershock waves coursed through him. Tony was exhausted. He was breathing heavily, resting his entire body weight on Bruce as the other man held him up. Bruce’s arms came wrapped around Tony’s body, pulling him down after a few minutes so they were lying on the blanket. Eyes half closed, bodies intertwined, they simply breathed with one another, letting the breeze wash over them. 

Tony smiled as Bruce ran a hand over his face, moving his head slightly to kiss the palm of it. Bruce chuckled, a sound that Tony vowed to make happen as often as possible. He wanted endless days of this. But he also knew it couldn’t last. In a few hours he’d be desperate for more whiskey, and that would consume him. It always did. He couldn’t stop it. He could, however, enjoy his time with the hot man who just made him come in his pants like a high schooler for the time being.

“Bruce Banner, secretly kinky,” Tony remarked, opening his eyes to look at the other man. 

“I’m secretly kinky?” Bruce asked, his voice full of humor.

“I’m open about my kinks! The whole world knows about them.”

“Was that part of the GQ profile?”

“See, you’re getting it,” Tony said, rolling over to kiss him quickly. 

Bruce laughed, pulling Tony’s head down to his chest, wrapping an arm around him. Tony tried not to snuggle into his chest. Things were still moving fast. Sex was fine. Hell, whatever they just did was fine. Intimacy wasn’t something Tony could handle right now. Even if his heart disagreed with his brain. Logic alway won out. Logic made sense. Feelings were unpredictable, uncontrollable, and dangerous in a way that honestly and truly scared him. 

“This is going to make the rest of our hang extremely uncomfortable,” Tony complained, pointing at the sticky wet patch on his jeans that was beginning to harden.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Bruce apologized, his cheeks blushing. 

Tony flipped onto his stomach, looked up at Bruce quizzically. “You’re a very strange man, Brucey-bear.”

“I am?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“You’re like this super shy guy who turned into Mr. Rage Monster in the most delectable way just a few minutes ago, and now you’re back to cute and easily flustered shy Bruce,” Tony explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

He watched as Bruce visibly tensed, looking down at the can of Pepsi in his hand. Fuck. He didn’t mean to make Bruce feel bad. Maybe it was something he was self conscious about. Good going, you fucking moron, Tony thought, racking his brain to bring it back to normal between them. He didn’t want to ruin their day. 

“We probably should have talked about a few things beforehand,” Bruce acknowledged, running a hand up and down the back of his neck. “Were you not into it? You seemed … into it.”

“If this isn’t proof enough,” Tony answered, trying not to roll his eyes, pointing at the dry cum stain on his pants. “I fucking loved it, Brucey. I can’t wait to see what you’re like when we’re actually in bed and you don’t have to worry about people stumbling upon us.”

“Tony,” Bruce warned, looking at the engineer. “There are just a few things that you should know before we continue.”

“If it’s anything that can be cured with a shot, you’re not going to scare me off,” Tony joked.

“No! No, it’s nothing like that.”

“You’ve got some kinky ass kinks you want to share with the class? Not to toot my own horn, but I’m probably just as int—”

“Tony!”

That caught his attention. He stopped talking. He watched Bruce, reaching out and covering the scientist’s hand with his own. Tony gave him a small, hopefully comforting smile, nodding, encouraging him to continue. He could shut up for a few minutes. 

“I need…certain things when I’m with someone,” Bruce struggled to get out, playing with the blades of grass under his hand. 

“Okay…”

“It’s nothing weird or anything! I mean, maybe it is, I don’t know, but it’s also pretty non negotiable so I understand if you’re turned off by it or—”

“Bruce,” he interrupted, grabbing the bottom of his face and making him look at Tony. “You haven’t even told me what it is.”

“Oh,” Bruce replied, blushing. “Right. Uh, okay. I’m just going to say it.”

“Good for you!”

“I need...I need…I need full control in bed,” Bruce rushed out, bowing his head. “Like, full control. I’m as stereotypical as dominants come. And again, I get it if you’re not interested in that, but that control...I need that if we’re going to fuck around.”

“Is that it?”

Bruce snapped his head up, gawking at Tony. Tony, who was now leaning back on his forearms, looking at Bruce with amusement in his eyes. He let out a small giggle, shaking his head, and sighing. 

“Brucey, that’s not a big thing.”

“What?”

“It’s 1991. No one gives a shit what you’re doing in bed.”

“I mean, I don’t really ca—”

“Unless you’re a genius billionaire known playboy, like me,” Tony interrupted, smirking. “Then all the gossip rags want to know explicitly what I like in bed.”

“Uh, so—”

“Luckily, dear Brucey, I don’t give a shit about the tabloids.”  
“That’s good.”

“And I happen to need similar things that will make this work much better than either of us could have anticipated,” Tony said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You mean, uh,” Bruce stuttered out, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Choke me, daddy,” Tony answered, waving his hands as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m being serious, Tony,” Bruce grumbled out.

“So am I! Seriously. Choking is just part of it. I’m extremely submissive. I need someone to dominate me. I want you to dominate me,” he finished.

“Fuck me,” Bruce groaned, as Tony watched him thrust up slightly.

“No, no Bruce. Fuck me,” Tony whispered, moving to sit on top of Bruce’s lap, unabashedly grinning as he felt Bruce’s dick twitch underneath his ass. “Someone’s ready to go again. And you didn’t even get to come the first time.”

“Getting off isn’t as important to me as getting my partner off,” Bruce answered easily, grinding Tony’s hips down.

“But what if I want to make you come in my mouth?” Tony asked, pouting.

“Tony, I won’t be able to stop so you better be sure it’s what you want.”

The sound of leaves rustling prevented him from saying whatever he had planned. Tony stopped grinding down on Bruce, choosing instead to sit in his lap in the most angelic way. They both glanced over at the group of teens who walked out of the hiking path into the clearing, laughing with one another. Bruce let out a tiny sigh, leaning his head against Tony’s shoulders. Tony rubbed a hand comfortingly on his back, leaning forward to give Bruce a small, innocent kiss. 

“Not to make it about me—”

“I find that hard to believe,” Bruce muttered, kissing Tony’s pulse point. 

“Not everything is about me! Like, maybe 85 percent of it is about me. The rest is what I want,” Tony answered, leaning back to look at Bruce.

“And what do you want?”  
“Lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“Lunch! I went through the deal of cooking—”

“Did you actually cook?”

“—of going to a restaurant where people cooked food for me that I then brought to you, and I think we should eat it,” Tony finished, exasperated, but happy.

Bruce cupped Tony’s face in his hand, running a thumb over his cheek, like Tony did to him before. He smiled, nodding, and watched as the genius engineer practically jumped off his lap to grab the different foods he packed. He was going to give Bruce a cute date, and he was the one who planned everything. He didn’t normally put effort into anything, but he wanted to give Bruce everything. 

It scared him. The last time he gave someone every part of him was Justin, and it broke him. Tony could be dumb sometimes but he wasn’t an idiot. All he knew was sadness. He was so desperate to not feel sad, for just 24 hours, he just wanted to be someone who didn’t feel everything as intensely as he did. He grabbed his own drink from the ground, the majority of it whiskey sloshing around in some coke, gulping as fast as he could. He just needed a little lift; a little physical distraction from everything. He couldn’t do this sober. 

He tossed the bottle to the side, trying not to feel Bruce’s eyes on him as he laid out the food, happy when the scientist sat down next to him. There was enough vegetarian offerings for Bruce, and a cheeseburger for Tony. A perfect mix between the two. He handed Bruce another Pepsi, smiling as Bruce gulped it down, risking another gulp of his own drink. Shit, he realized, I’m going to have to drive back. Fuck.

“I have to say, I’m impressed,” Bruce said, biting into a piece of avocado toast. 

“Didn’t think Tony Stark had it in him?”

“Oh no, this certainly speaks to Tony Stark’s wallet,” Bruce commented, gesturing to the spread of food. “But the thoughtfulness is more than most people expect from billionaires.”

“Billionaire sons,” Tony muttered, trying to not let the hurt show.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” Tony smiled, drinking from his special bottle once again.

“I thought you said something.”

“Nope! Just made some sounds with my noise hole.” 

“Don’t do that, Tony,” Bruce asked, putting his hand on Tony’s. 

“It’s nothing, Bruce,” Tony answered sharply, looking at the teens who previously interrupted them. They were sitting in a circle, laughing, passing a joint from person to person. 

“If you’re sure,” Bruce sighed. 

Tony nodded, biting into his own burger, telling Bruce a lame joke. He wanted to move on. Bruce laughed, and the two started talking about projects they were working on. Tony watched as Bruce got more animated with every new description of what he was working on, butting in from time to time to offer his thoughts. He wasn’t a chemist, but he did understand some of the physics that Bruce was working on, his brain going into overdrive trying to find easier ways for Bruce to get to the endgame with his work. He was just as pleased when Bruce did the same thing for Tony as they talked about JARVIS, only slightly aggravated when Bruce figured out an easy and obvious solution to something he had been stuck on for days. 

They sat for another hour just looking at the city below them, feeling like kings of the world. Even if just for a short while. The possibilities for their lives seemed endless. They were infinite; only in that moment, but for an hour, they were truly and undeniably infinite. Combined with the buzz Tony had acquired and the feeling of Bruce against his chest as they cuddled, Tony felt like he would be okay for the first time in years. 

“Hey,” Tony whispered in Bruce’s ear, rousing the other boy who had begun drifting off. 

“Mmng,” Bruce answered unintelligibly, turning in Tony’s arms and dropping his head against Tony’s neck. 

Tony cooed, brushing his hand through Bruce’s hair. He was falling in love so fast with this boy. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered again, dropping a kiss to Bruce’s temple. 

“Okay,” Bruce replied sleepily, yawning as he moved away from Tony’s warm body, stretching. 

Tony packed up the loose garbage they had, proud of himself for not stumbling. He followed Bruce back toward the hiking path, grinning when the scientist reached for his hand. He was glad Bruce was seemingly more than okay with public displays of affection. Tony liked physically showing his love for people in his life, whether it was Rhodey, Clint, Nat, and now Bruce. He would have kept his distance if Bruce wanted, but not without difficulty. Not having to worry about it was a small relief he was thankful for. 

“Tired?” he asked as they walked down the last bit of the path.

“Not really,” Bruce shook his head. 

“You were practically drooling in your sleep, Brucey.”

“I was just comfortable,” he admitted, his ears reddening. 

“It’s okay, you know,” Tony said casually, popping open the trunk as they reached his car. 

“What is?” Bruce asked, leaning against the tailight. 

“Liking me,” Tony said, closing the trunk and leaning on it, looking at Bruce. 

“I know! It’s just, how are you—”

“Hey hey, big guy, calm down,” Tony said, reaching over and grabbing Bruce’s shoulders as the boy sputtered. “I told you, I’m immensely likable. It was inevitable.” 

“Are you saying you’re inevitable?” Bruce asked, stepping further into Tony’s arms so he could hug the engineer. 

“I’m Tony Stark,” he said, leaning in to kiss Bruce softly, “but when I’m with you, I’m just Tony.” 

“Is that good or bad?” Bruce whispered back, nuzzling Tony’s neck.

“I’m not sure yet,” Tony answered honestly. And for once he didn’t want to hide away from the sincerity, from the vulnerability. He just wanted to hug Bruce as long as the other man would let him. 

Bruce pulled back from him, and gave him a quizzical look. They stared at each other for a second, standing in a comfortable silence. The wind was blowing, and Tony couldn’t help but stare as Bruce’s hair swayed underneath his beanie, cupping his face perfectly. It was getting chillier as the wind picked up, and Tony barely suppressed the shiver that coursed through his body. Bruce ran a hand up and down his own arm, still never taking his eyes off Tony’s face. 

It was after the second minute passed that Tony started to feel uncomfortable. He didn’t do silence for this long. Without noise, his mind got super loud. His anxieties came rushing back, all of his self loathing and inadequacies. He wished he could focus on some math problems; equations and science made him feel like he was in control of his mind and not the other way around. The only noise was numbers and figures begging for answers instead of problems that Tony couldn’t solve, that he helped create, that he didn’t want to acknowledge. 

“You’re a very strange man, Tony Stark,” Bruce said. 

“It’s not fair to use my own lines against me,” Tony answered, secretly overjoyed Bruce said something first. 

“You can’t own words.”

“Hasn’t stopped me from trying.”

“See! There’s the strangeness.”

“What are you talking about?” Tony asked, walking toward his door, the cold starting to seep into his bones. 

“You’re this incredibly public person, with a very public persona, who clearly doesn’t want anyone to see who you really are,” Bruce started. 

Tony tried his hardest not to have a full blown panic attack as he put the key in the ignition and took out a cigarette. Huh, first one in hours, Tony thought. That’s new. 

“But I would put good money on that, on Tony, being the person who’s going to save the world, not Tony Stark,” Bruce finished, lowering his own window as Tony exhaled a cloud of smoke. 

Tony gripped the steering wheel, not wanting to risk a look at Bruce. Bruce, this boy he’s known for a week, who he had very quickly fallen for, who seemed to know him better than anyone he’s ever met. Maybe not Rhodey or Clint or Nat — fuck, Nat — but who knew him so well he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t have anyone that close again. Never again. He had to end it. He had to. This was going to end poorly. He needed a drink. He needed a drink and a random fuck with someone he could pretend was Bruce and then toss out. He needed...fuck he needed to say something.

“Do you want to come back to my apartment?”


End file.
